A Light in the Darkness: Refracted
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.
1. Chapter One: Telmar

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

_What's Gone on Before_

Shot entering a courthouse in our world, a stranger comes to Narnia one year into the Pevensies' reign. This stranger, Katerina Alambiel, gains the trust of young Queen Lucy even though others suspect she might be a witch. Still, she is allowed to remain in Cair Paravel as a guest. Oreius begins to earn her trust as she earns his. When the evil sorcerer, Jannes, takes Lucy, Katerina Alambiel is accused of being an accomplice even as she crafts a plan to rescue the Valiant Queen. Infiltrating the sorcerer's lair, Katerina Alambiel leaves a trail for Oreius and the Kings allowing them to rescue Lucy. Katerina Alambiel pursues and kills Jannes with Oreius' aid (Full story: _Awakening_).

After six months of finding a niche in the daily life and routine of Cair Paravel (Full story: _Shields_), Katerina Alambiel is counted as a friend rather than a guest by the Four and by General Oreius. She accompanies High King Peter and Queen Susan on a trip, unaware that another sorcerer intends to frame her as the High King's assassin. Just before parting ways with Susan, dark secrets in Katerina Alambiel's past are revealed. A pair of assassins frames Katerina Alambiel in two attacks on the High King's life before she and a badly wounded Peter are captured by the sorcerer, Jambres. As he tortures them, Jambres reveals that Katerina Alambiel is part Human and part Narnian. Katerina Alambiel interferes with Jambres' attempt to kill Peter, taking the brunt of the spell herself before Oreius and the other Narnians rescue them. Aslan confirms to Katerina Alambiel that she is both Human and Narnian, and that her Narnian heritage is that of Nymph and Centaur due to her mother being the Nymph daughter of a Centaur, before charging her with the task of searching for the identity of her birth family, thereby unlocking the forgotten memories of her early childhood. Katerina Alambiel survives the spell with the addition of two white streaks in the front of her hair as souvenirs and Peter decides to knight her into his chivalric order for her actions (Full story: _Shadowed_).

Two years after being knighted Dame Sepphora of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Katerina Alambiel is nearing the end of her search for the identity of her Narnian birth family. While her long-forgotten memories begin to resurface, she runs afoul of Count Hendrik of Sisemaal, one of Narnia's allies. Afterwards, Katerina Alambiel discovers that she was born Alambiel, daughter of Lew the last King of Narnia, and the only survivor of Jadis' massacre of the original royal family. Before Katerina Alambiel can decide how to handle the information, she and King Edmund go on a border patrol but are captured by the vengeful disgraced Count Hendrik and his cousin, Heikki, who leads a group of mercenaries employed by the Witch Medea. As Peter and Oreius lead a huge rescue party to find them, Edmund and Katerina Alambiel are tormented by Medea. Peter and Oreius rescue them just after Medea turns Katerina Alambiel over to Heikki and Hendrik and prepares to kill Edmund. Medea is defeated and her forces routed and scattered. Katerina Alambiel swears Oreius and the four other Narnians who know the truth of her identity to secrecy (Full story: _Revealed_).

Two and a half years after the incident with Medea and the Sisemaalian mercenaries, Werewolves and Hags plot to resurrect Jadis through the sacrifice of royal blood. While General Oreius and the Kings are on a diplomatic journey to Archenland, Oreius is forced to reexamine his feelings for Katerina Alambiel. In the absence of the General and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel and Queen Susan are ambushed by Werewolves and Susan is spirited away to be the sacrifice. Katerina Alambiel and her small party pursue the Werewolves but without the aid of the soldiers led by General Oreius and the Kings, Katerina Alambiel offers herself as a trade. With Katerina Alambiel now prisoner of the Fell, the remaining soldiers and Susan finally meet up with the Kings and Oreius. While the injured Susan is rushed back to the Cair and the healing power of Lucy's cordial, Oreius and the Kings seek to rescue Katerina Alambiel before the Fell ceremony on Winter Solstice and the truth of Katerina Alambiel's royal heritage is revealed to the Four. Oreius and the Kings disrupt the ceremony and aid in Katerina Alambiel's escape. Upon returning to the Cair, Katerina Alambiel presents the Four with an edict resolving many potential issues concerning her heritage, which is now common knowledge, but Oreius waits for a better time to reveal to Katerina Alambiel that he cares for her as more than a friend (Full Story: _Concealed_).

Almost six months after having her royal heritage become common knowledge, Katerina Alambiel travels as the Princess Royal with General Oreius on a diplomatic mission to the country of Zelaia. On their last night in Zelaia, Katerina Alambiel comes to the realization that she loves Oreius. However, before either one speaks up, they are captured by slavers and sold into the underground world of the Blood Games. Forced to fight by the man who bought them, Katerina Alambiel and Oreius teeter on the brink of despair. They finally escape with another fighter and return to Narnia. Once they recover from their wounds, Oreius and Katerina Alambiel confess their love to each other and are now courting in secret (Full Story: _Rekindled_).

**_A Light in the Darkness: Refracted_**

Chapter One: Telmar

4 Lenisgale 1007

"If the lord from Akti would come down from the crow's nest, then perhaps he would realize that the council must hear out the concerns of the Narnian Empire since we have been trading in their waters."

Peter exchanged a tired glance with Kat and Oreius as the Telmarine council erupted into arguments again. It had been like this for the last week. A council of lords ruled Telmar; unfortunately, they never agreed on anything. And the lord from Akti seemed suspiciously belligerent about entertaining the negotiations for Telmar to cease conducting slaving raids on Calormen's behalf in Narnian waters. He leaned toward Oreius, "I do not think we shall get any further today. See if you can gain their attention, so we can leave without starting a war."

The General nodded once then he fixed a steely gaze on the Telmarine lords and, in the same voice Peter had heard him use to command the army in the middle of a battlefield, cut through the squabble, "Lords of the Council!"

The Telmarine lords stilled and darted very nervous gazes at them, or more accurately, at Oreius. Peter glanced at Kat and she winked at him. He smothered a smile as he drew himself up, "Lords of the Council of Telmar, We fear our negotiations shall proceed no further today and, with respect, We and our party shall withdraw until negotiations continue on the morrow."

The Telmarine lords nodded, apparently too intimidated by Oreius to form a spoken reply, and Peter gave a slight nod then withdrew as Kat and Oreius fell into step with him. Peter watched as the Telmarines in the halls shot wary, suspicious, or even outright hostile looks at them. Although, he'd probably received the least...Kat and Oreius seemed to be tied at the moment on who received the most looks. Kat's height and the white streaks at the front of her deep blonde hair seemed to gather a number of whispers involving 'witch' and 'sorceress.' Not to mention her manner and carriage even as the Princess Royal instead of as Dame Sepphora was far bolder than Telmarine women ever conducted themselves (when they spoke to the Narnians…or were even introduced to them). And, Oreius...well, Telmar had no Talking Beasts or Magical Creatures, only Humans and dumb beasts, and Oreius was the first Centaur to come to Telmar itself, so the reason he drew such attention was fairly obvious.

Once they reached the assigned quarters for their party, Peter shook his head, "This is taking much longer than we'd planned."

Kat shoved him slightly to the right as she passed him then sat on the settee, "This is what happens when dealing with a country that can barely run itself. There is no true balance in the government, what with the council of six lords with six different agendas at all times, always struggling for power, and they're even more superstitious than the Sisemaalians and Calormenes combined. We are fortunate that our gamble that there was a significant number on the council who are afraid that Narnia will choke off their trade in the Eastern Sea has paid off."

Peter frowned, "Save for the lord from Akti, old...whatever his name is-"

Kat looked up from where she was pulling off her shoes, "Lord Kazimierz."

Oreius nodded, "And the one who seems most willing to cooperate is Lord Tuanka."

"Right, but at this rate, we're still going be here next Yule."

"You worry too much, Peter. We're far more likely to meet some Murphy-approved fate well before Yule." Kat smirked as she stood back up and crossed to her room, opening the door long enough to toss her shoes in, before turning back to them, "Now, let's just enjoy the fact that tonight we get to eat without being stared at throughout the entire meal."

Peter chuckled, "Don't forget that we do have to go over more paperwork after dinner, Kat."

She just sighed, "Naturally."

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A frost coated most of the city, biting into him, reminding him _why_ he was so willing to make the treacherous five-month sea voyage from Telmar's cold shores along the Western Sea to the warmth of the Eastern Sea. Never mind his profitable pursuits; he made it so he could flee the accursed cold that was Telmar's winter and early spring. He turned at the sound of the door opening and set his hand on the curved Calormene scimitar at his waist, narrowing his eyes at the one responsible for his inability to sail away from this miserable place. "What is it you want?"

A pouch the size of his fist was tossed at his feet, the ties coming loose and spilling silver coins across the tavern roof. "A task...regarding the Narnians who plague our country with their unnatural presence."

He glanced from the glinting Calormene Crescents resting against the toe of his dirt-encrusted boot to the other Telmarine. One who usually pretended he was of a higher sort than him, just because he could trace his ancestry in an unbroken line to one of the first Six Families...but now he had to stoop to paying him for help. He tapped one finger on the hilt of his sword, "For the task I believe you have in mind, you better have five more pouches of the like or you won't have to wait to find out if the woman with them really is a seer or sorceress."

The look of disgust on the other Telmarine's face as he tossed five more pouches at his feet was very enjoyable. He gave a mocking half-bow, "You are too gracious, my lord. Now, what is this task?"

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Katerina stared at the words on the report concerning Telmarines trolling Narnia's island territories and allies for slaves who would then be sold to Calormene slavers and taken to slave markets, which they were hoping to use for some leverage in this diplomatic nightmare of trying to coax Telmar's squabbling lords into cooperating. The words were starting to blur together and her headache was getting worse. Peter had been staring at the same page of his report for the past twenty minutes. Only the Kentauri was still making any sort of progress (sometimes she could swear that he lived and breathed paperwork). Tossing the report back on the table, she rubbed her aching temples, "No more paperwork for tonight. Peter, go to bed. We can't have you yawning your way through negotiations tomorrow. Oreius and I will take care of this. Go on."

Not even offering a token protest, Peter just yawned then set his report down with precise care before pushing himself out of his chair, "Good night, you two."

"Good night, your majesty."

"Good night, Peter." Neither of them moved from their spots though until they'd heard Peter slide the lock on his bedroom door into place. Retrieving the reports from her side of the table, Katerina leafed through them with more care than she would ever be forced into admitting. Putting them mostly in the proper order, she handed them to Oreius, hiding a grin as the Kentauri deliberately caressed the back of her hand when he took the reports from her only to frown and give her a mock glare as he shuffled the reports into their proper order. She smirked, "Is breá liom tú ró, Kentauri." _(I love you too, Kentauri.)_

Oreius returned the reports to the diplomatic pouches then, taking her hand and squeezing lightly, he led her over to sit in front of the large fireplace. Lifting their still entwined hands, he pressed a kiss to her fingertips then to the back of her hand before he leaned in, cupping the side of her face with his free hand and brushed his lips against hers then he breathed against her ear, "And, I love you, my cheeky little pest."

She laughed softly then pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before she shifted so she was leaning against him instead of facing him. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she lightly rubbed her free hand up and down the inside of his arm, and whispered, "The negotiations are making me nervous."

His fingers tightened slightly, gently squeezing her hand, "We will go home soon, Alambiel. Although, I am not certain if it will be with the results we were hoping for when we came here."

Katerina gazed at the fire that was slowly dying to embers, stilling her hand against the crook of his elbow. The words came soft and unbidden. "They burn accused witches at the stake here. I really do not want to acquire any burns...they're even worse than broken ribs."

She felt him press a kiss against her temple, "They will not burn you. I will not allow it." She squeezed his hand in silent thanks and he kissed her temple again. The silence that fell between them was comfortable as she remained with her head pillowed on his shoulder and resting one hand against the crook of his elbow, while the other was still firmly entwined with his hand. They stayed that way for a long time before Oreius shifted, rousing Katerina out of her doze. She let him steal one more kiss before she retired to her room. She didn't tell Oreius, but she still couldn't shake the bad feeling she had about these negotiations with Telmar. Crawling into the uncomfortable bed (the Kentauri was lucky he was sleeping standing up), she carefully placed one of her knives under the pillow and promised herself to stay on high alert until they were out of Telmar.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to be back with another long story for awhile...but between having this plot bunny come together so very quickly and WillowDryad (the blame/credit for this very early return is mostly on her and she knows it ;) ), I couldn't help myself. So this story will only be updated on a weekly basis, right now I'm trying for Mondays, and it will be awhile before I finish. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about the beginning of this new story (and yes it is the first epic main story I've started without a prologue). **

**A/N2: This is also my 80th story.**


	2. Chapter Two: An Insulting Dinner

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Two: An Insulting Dinner

The pre-dawn light barely lit the dark rooms the Telmarines had given them as Oreius eased the door to Alambiel's room open. The fact that she had even mentioned the burning of witches told him how much Telmar's general attitude toward them was weighing on her. Stopping by the bed, he brushed a few loose strands of gold and white hair back then ran the back of his fingers down the side of her face. She opened her eyes and swatted his hand away, "Scoir sin. Fiú nach bhfuil Peter ionas gan trácht ar a botún an chaingean sin mar cheann de cairdeas ach ní bhíonn ach."_ (Quit that. Even Peter is not so oblivious as to mistake that action as one of mere friendship.)_

Oreius chuckled softly, "The High King is not yet awake and there is no mistletoe about, so our little secret is still safe." His amusement faded as he regarded how she was still dressed in the clothes from the day before and her hand remained under the pillow. He was fortunate she had not drawn the dagger she'd undoubtedly slipped under her pillow. He touched her cheek again then slid his hand under her chin, turning her face up toward him, as he searched her gaze. "Alambiel, tell me what is troubling you. Please."

She frowned and a shadow entered her eyes, darkening them, "I don't know for sure, but there is something wrong here. Something lurking just below the surface, but I can't say for certain what it is that's bothering me. No direct threat, but I can't shake the feeling that something is just waiting to spring its trap."

He nodded, "We will continue maintaining a high alert and I will remind the High King to be on his guard, especially since he does not have his brother to guard his back on this trip. Now, change into something fresh, we must endure another round of negotiations and then there will be another feast tonight."

"Oh joy, they get another opportunity to treat you as though you're not even there. Last time they didn't even have the courtesy to offer you a drink, much less food."

He smiled at her obvious insult on his behalf and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand then he left her room, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, King Peter blearily stumbled into the main room, tugging his tunic down with one hand and attempting to brush his hair with the other. He yawned, mumbling a greeting before he sagged into a chair, "Do we still have reports to go over, Oreius?"

Oreius nodded, "Only two this morn." King Peter groaned. Oreius gave the colt a sympathetic look. Judging by the almost continuous squabbling that had interrupted each day of negotiation, Oreius was uncertain as to how much progress, if any, would be made today and then with the banquet… He sighed as he set the first thick report in front of the High King. It was going to be a very long day.

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Peter surveyed the banquet hall, half-wishing he could just go collapse on the lumpy bed in his room and sleep, but instead he forced himself to continue making small talk with three of the Telmarine lords. The very memory of how negotiations had proceeded earlier was enough to leave him with a bad taste in his mouth and a pounding headache. The Telmarine lords had broken into arguments at nearly every turn and he'd been forced to have Oreius intercede five different times. Fortunately, the Centaur merely had to call out once each time and the lords ceased their squabbling…until the next incident. By the Lion, he was quite tired of it all.

If Edmund hadn't broken his leg the week before they had been scheduled to leave for Telmar, Peter would have switched places with his brother. Edmund was a bit more patient than he was when it came to negotiations anyway…not to mention he had a better head for remembering all the names (like with the Tisroc's many sons) when they sounded similar. Peter had a trick for remembering the important ones that usually worked. However, this time he was just too tired so Kat and Oreius would quietly remind him of the appropriate names when they consulted during the meetings.

He sipped the barely tolerable ale and met Kat's gaze. She was watching the room with an air of serenity that could have rivaled Susan. It was always interesting to see Kat wrap herself in the persona fitting to the Princess Royal of Narnia (as much as she didn't care for it), it was more convincing than he would have ever guessed if he hadn't seen her transitions from demure lady-in-waiting to knight and swordmaster to the ambassador on behalf of the Four. She gave him the slightest of nods and, for a moment, he knew he was looking into the eyes of Dame Sepphora who'd indicated that they were still safe. He nodded back slightly. Some of the Telmarine lords approached him and he wearily plunged back into the stormy waters of diplomacy.

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Katerina glanced away from Peter. Everything in her said to get her people out and leave before something bad happened…it'd been a long time since she felt that urge to cut and run. Not since… She forced her thoughts from the darker memories and focused on subtly scanning the crowd. She raised the mug of ale to her lips, but didn't actually drink (personally, ale was not her favored drink anyway but she didn't want to risk even the slightest chance of deadening her senses). The all too familiar feeling of unfriendly eyes settled on her again. It was true that she and the others had been on the receiving end of a number of unfriendly stares, but this felt more like when a true enemy was watching and trying to decide when to attack and how exactly to end their happy little lives.

_All right. Where are you hiding? _Whoever was responsible for setting her on edge _had_ to be in the room somewhere. But, the crowd… Ugh, how she hated being stuck in a crowd. She glanced toward a group of men laughing and sharing rather ribald jokes (how charming…not). No, they weren't the source, but someone could stand near them and use them to deflect attention as they watched the room, or a specific target. It was what she would do.

"Centaur!"

Katerina looked toward where Oreius was standing by the wall. His arms were still folded across his chest and his face was that same stern mask it had been since they left their assigned quarters, but now he was looking impassively at a Telmarine. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized the Telmarine as Lord Blomar, Lord Kazimierz's lackey on the council. This was not going to be good. She started easing her way through the crowd toward them.

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He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Perhaps the Narnian woman was indeed a seer or sorceress because she had nearly pinned down his position. He probably would have been discovered if not for one of the idiot Lords of the Council calling to the Centaur loudly enough to catch her attention. Taking advantage of her distraction, he moved, hiding himself in a different part of the crowd. Still watching.

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Katerina moved through the crowd, but the people who'd started to gather to watch Blomar approach Oreius were getting in her way. She suppressed the urge to hiss in frustration and kept weaving (or just plain push) through the crowd. Blomar sounded a bit drunk as he came closer to Oreius (thank Aslan she was tall enough to be able to see what was going on), "Centaur! I wonder if you might shelve…resolve a question of mine?" Oreius didn't say a word or even twitch as he looked down at the Telmarine, and the fool seemed to take that as a sign he should continue. "I am curiosity…curious, what happens when a centaur breaks its leg? You must be put down, yes? As with a horse."

_Don't react, a chara, don't react. Yes, he just delivered one of the biggest insults possible for any Narnian, much less a Centaur, but for the love of the Lion, let this one pass. _Katerina pushed past one of the other Lords of the Council, barely remembering to beg his pardon as she did so. She could only pray that the Kentauri would not react to the insult. Oreius looked at the man for a very long moment (if Blomar had been less drunk, Katerina was certain that he would have been squirming) before he finally answered, "No. We Centaurs are not dumb horses. If we break a leg, we go to the healers."

Katerina sighed in relief. Well, at least, that was over. She cringed mentally as she realized she'd just invited Murphy…and to make things worse, he'd leapt on her invitation. She watched, slightly horrified, as Blomar turned and beckoned forward two servants who were carrying a wooden trough (yes, a feed trough) filled to the brim with hay. Under Blomar's direction, the servants carried the feed trough to Oreius and held it there in front of him. Blomar laughed, "I noticed that you do not eat when you join us, centaur. This is more palatable, no? Eat, we wood…would not mind."

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Oreius didn't move. He didn't even twitch a finger because at that moment if he moved, it would be to strike Blomar down for his insult. His rage boiled. They refused to act as if he existed until the moment they chose to insult him. They brought a _feed trough of_ _hay_ and expected him to debase himself by eating it as though he were some animal, a dumb beast? He was a Centaur, not a Horse nor any other creature who would deem hay as a pleasant meal. What would they ask him next? If he would take a saddle and bit?

He flicked his gaze away from the fool and the insulting feed trough before his fury found expression. He was giving serious consideration to trampling the offending Telmarine. His gaze caught on Alambiel. She was moving through the crowd, heading toward him. She gave him a wide-eyed look and barely shook her head, asking him not to respond to the grave insult. Oreius could see a number of Telmarines at her back who were armed. He glanced over to the High King, who was also surrounded by Telmarines who were armed (both the lords and the soldiers). If he reacted, he would condemn the High King and his own lady to death. He had told Alambiel he would not allow the Telmarines to have a chance to burn her at the stake… If he reacted, he knew she would be burned. If he reacted, he would not be able to bring Peter and Alambiel back home as Narnia counted on him to do.

Forcing his temper down, Oreius finally turned back to Blomar. "A generous offer, but I fear I do not eat hay nor do I overindulge in wine."

The servants seemed to understand sooner than the drunken lord as they immediately took the offensive feed trough away, while Blomar stared at him, "Doesn't eat hay? Then what do you eat? Mass…grass?" Oreius didn't answer. One of the younger Telmarines came forward and pulled Blomar away, quietly trying to hush him as he continued muttering about how Centaurs must eat hay. Apparently, he hadn't registered Oreius' jibe about the overindulgence of wine…it was probably better that way.

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Katerina let out a soft sigh of relief. _Thank you, Aslan._ Someone cleared their throat behind her and she turned to see a servant with a plate of food and a mug of ale. The servant bowed his head, "Your highness, your king mentioned that the general would prefer this."

She glanced at Peter and he gave a slight nod. All right, he had actually sent the food and drink. She took them from the servant, "Thank you." The servant looked surprised but she ignored him as she turned and headed to the Kentauri.

Oreius looked at her then at the food and drink and raised an eyebrow. She smiled slightly, offering them to him, "The High King mentioned you would prefer this."

He was still angry over the insult. She could tell from the little signs he was giving off, but, thankfully, only those who knew him well would be able to tell. Katerina turned her face slightly so only Oreius could see her mouth 'please.' He took the plate of food and the mug of ale from her, their fingers brushing briefly. She turned to face the room, the majority of the Telmarines were openly staring as Oreius ate and drank (considering he liked his coffee black enough to give a Marine heartburn, the poor quality of the ale wouldn't phase him). She'd like to knock their heads together. _Yes, he's a Centaur and look he doesn't eat like a dumb animal. Now get over it. _Fortunately, it wasn't much longer before Peter joined them and they were able to leave.

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He watched the Narnians leave. As soon as they had disappeared from sight, the lord who'd paid for his services came to stand by him. The Lord of the Council sneered at the door through which the Narnians had just vanished, "Did you see how the woman caters to the beast? He is apparently of greater rank than she is and they styled her as the Princess Royal when they came here from a country full of abominations. I want them to see her burn before they die." The lord turned to him and demanded, "When will you act?"

He gave the lord a cold look, "At the time of my choosing." He left the hall, pulling the hood of his cloak up as he did so. He'd seen what he needed to and now he had plans to put into place.

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Peter glanced at Oreius. The Centaur was obviously still offended by the Telmarine's insult. Kat sighed once they'd reached their quarters, "Well that was such fun." She walked into her room, muttering just loud enough that Peter could hear her, "I can't wait to go home."

Kat shut the door behind her and Peter looked at the General again. He hesitated to say anything. The memory returned of an etiquette lesson with Merripot during the first few months after they'd come to Narnia. The Muskrat had given them a stern lecture about what not to offer to the Magical Creatures of Narnia…_ "And, your majesties, must remember that one never offers a worm as a meal to a Mermaid. Why, that would be the equivalent of offering hay to a Centaur. It simply isn't done."_

He had never gotten up the nerve to ask _why _offering hay to a Centaur was such an insult, but now… He cleared his throat, "Oreius?"

"Your Majesty?"

"I know that the Telmarines insulted you badly tonight, normally I wouldn't pry, but since this insult was meant to cause a diplomatic incident…" He trailed off then asked quietly, "Would you explain to me why this insult is so grave?"

Oreius flicked his tail then moved to build up the fire. For a moment, Peter thought he wasn't going to answer. Not looking at him, the Centaur broke the tense silence, "Offering hay to a Centaur is the equivalent of saying we are nothing more than an animal, a dumb beast. But, it is worse than that. It insults our families, our entire people." Oreius pinned him with a very solemn gaze, "My King, by saying a Centaur is an animal, do you know what that says of those who marry Nymphs or the daughters of those marriages? What that says of Tuulea or Deianeira or her daughter with Silverstone or even Alambiel since she is the granddaughter of a Centaur?"

Peter paled as the implication sank home. "I understand, Oreius. I am sorry you received this insult. I wish there was something we could about it, but given our present circumstances…"

Oreius nodded, "I understand, my King. That is why I did not react."

Peter touched the Centaur's shoulder, "I know that must have been difficult. Thank you. I hope the negotiations will conclude soon and then we will be able to go home. I know that would make Kat happy too…would you talk to her? Remind her that we need to stick with the negotiations for as long as possible?"

He paused as Oreius bowed slightly, "I will do so."

Peter felt all the earlier weariness drop on him again and he couldn't stifle a yawn. He knew he had to turn in or he would be all but worthless in the morning. "Good night, Oreius."

"Good night, my King."

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Oreius stared at the fire, which he had just built up again. Blomar was a drunken fool…bringing in the trough of hay wouldn't have been his idea, not until it was suggested to him. Someone was trying to provoke a diplomatic incident. A door eased open and, moments later, Alambiel joined him. She stood in front of him, "We need to leave and soon."

"I know. Nevertheless, we cannot leave just yet. The High King asked me to remind you that we must proceed with the negotiations for as long as possible." He laid his hands on her shoulders, "I know you are troubled, Alambiel, but this is our current duty."

She nodded but didn't say anything. Oreius gently pulled her close and held her against his heart. He wished he could take her and Peter back to Narnia immediately. However, if there was any chance of binding Telmar to an agreement of ceasing their slaving activities in Narnian waters, they had to stay. It was not what he preferred but it was what he would do. He kissed Alambiel's hair, wishing he could offer better comfort and wishing he could give her what she so ardently desired, to take her home and ease the fear in her eyes. But, he couldn't. He hugged her close for a moment longer then stepped back. Alambiel looked up at him and nodded, "It's okay, Kentauri."

He watched her retreat to her room again then turned back to the fire. _Aslan, grant us wisdom._

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, I'm posting a little early. If I get five reviews, I will post chapter three on Monday instead of waiting a week. Let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	3. Chapter Three: An Ill Note

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Three: An Ill Note

_Sorceress,_

_You shall not be allowed to leave this city alive. We know what you are doing and we will stop it. You can't win. No matter how great your powers might be. You shall fall. We will listen to your screams as you burn and we shall rejoice. _

_X_

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Katerina crumpled the note that had been lying on top of her bed when she came in. Someone was trying to provoke a diplomatic incident. She could hear Oreius and Peter talking quietly in the main room; they'd been forced to consult together for over half the negotiations today due to the questions being ones that the General of Narnia knew the answers to better than the High King of Narnia since it was under his realm of responsibility. She couldn't let them know…she definitely couldn't let the Kentauri find out, not after the insult the Telmarines had delivered only last night. They needed to keep negotiations going or, at least, make it where they weren't the ones who caused negotiations to fail. She didn't like it, but it was true.

Walking out of her room, she took several crumpled papers, including the note, and tossed them into the fire. Peter and Oreius both gave her curious looks. Peter looked at the fire then looked at her, "What were those, Kat?"

She smiled, "Just some scraps and bad notes. I don't have a fireplace in my room, remember? So, have we been uninvited to tonight's shindig?"

"Yes. You don't have to look so happy about that, Kat."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review.**


	4. Chapter Four: Negotiations Break

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Four: Negotiations Break

"And, how do we know you have not forged these documents in an attempt to undermine Telmar's reputation and good name among the eastern countries?"

Peter was careful to keep his expression neutral as he met Lord Kazimierz's belligerent gaze, "The documents were taken from a Telmarine crew when they were caught in the process of capturing Narnians on Our colony of the Seven Isles for the purpose of carrying them off into slavery. We have no reason nor interest in undermining Telmar and We assure you that We do not possess the items necessary to forge these documents. These articles commissioned the Telmarine ship to abduct Narnians whenever possible and sell them to Calormene slavers even when actively trading with Narnia, her territories, and her colonies." He glanced over at Kat and gestured for her to step forward, "In addition to these documents, Our soldiers also confiscated this personal letter marked only by a seal. We were hoping someone on this council might recognize it and use it as necessary to address the matter."

The council had been muttering quietly but when Kat stepped forward and unfolded the letter to reveal the seal, chaos erupted. The lords all jumped to their feet, shouting and waving their arms and pointing at each other and at Kat. Lord Kazimeirz's voice rose above them as he raged, "Sorcery!" Kat glanced over her shoulder at him and Peter shook his head. She wasn't to draw a weapon (and he knew she had more than one on her simply because it was Kat). It would only make things worse. She nodded and started to back up just as Lord Kazimeirz reached her. He was still raging as he snatched the letter from Kat's hand and slapped her across the mouth with it.

Peter took a step forward, "Oreius." He didn't even have to get the rest of the order out. The General had already reached Kat and the Telmarine Lord, wrapping an arm around her waist as he lifted her away and back, so he was now between her and the Telmarine. Peter saw Kat touch her mouth and was thankful that Oreius had restrained her in a way that made it look like he was only protecting her.

Lord Kazimeirz ripped the letter into tiny pieces, now raging so hard that Peter could see spittle flying from the man's lips. "You Narnians think to win with sorcery! You bring that woman, that _sorceress_ here and have her cast a _spell_ to frame one of the Lords of the Council of Telmar? You are unnatural abominations! You should not even walk this earth and you have the gall to come to _our_ country and tell us- _Order_ us to jeopardize our trade because of these lies and false evidence your sorceress conjured up for you?" The other Lords of the Council shouted, temporarily drowning out Kazimeirz, but Peter couldn't make out if they were agreeing or disagreeing. At that point, though, it didn't really matter. Kazimeirz was still raging when Peter could hear him again. "Witches must be burned! If you stay in Telmar, your sorceress will meet the fate she deserves!"

Peter looked at Oreius and noticed the Centaur seemed to be gripping Kat a little harder than he had before. Had Kat tried to do something? One of the other Lords stepped forward, shouting, "Narnia, Telmar dissolves the negotiations. Leave no later than tomorrow afternoon or we cannot guarantee your safety."

Lord Tuanka, yes that was the chap's name. Peter nodded, "We shall leave in the morn, Lord Tuanka." The Telmarine Lord nodded and grabbed Kazimeirz's arm as another Lord grabbed his other arm, pulling the belligerent and still raging man back away from Oreius and Kat. Peter looked at Oreius, who was still keeping Kat in a close hold and watching Kazimeirz and the other Telmarines, "General Oreius."

Oreius looked at him and gave a curt nod. He didn't let go of Kat until they had reached Peter and even then he kept one hand at the center of Kat's back. Peter winced in sympathy when he saw Kat's swollen mouth and the trickle of blood from where her lip had been cut. Looming behind them, Oreius pushed them both along the hall, well, he pushed Peter more with his presence while he kept a hand to Kat's back, until they had finally reached their quarters. As soon as the doors were secured, Peter turned so he was facing both Oreius and Kat, "Well, I suppose that concludes negotiations."

Kat gingerly touched her mouth, "Just once I'd like to go to one of our friendly enemies and _not_ be accused of being a witch." She lowered her hand and grew more serious, "We should get our things and leave today."

Peter shook his head, "We wouldn't get far enough away. Oreius?"

The Centaur was silent for a long moment then he also shook his head, "No, if we leave now, we could head right into an ambush and the sunlight has already faded. We don't know the land well enough to risk leaving now."

Kat frowned, "And staying will only give them more time to set up an ambush. We must leave now."

Oreius shook his head but didn't say anything as Peter drew himself up, "Enough, Lady. We cannot leave just yet. It has been decided."

For a moment, he thought Kat would argue then she curtsied, "As the High King commands." She walked to the table, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and then began writing.

Peter glanced at Oreius who shrugged slightly. Looking back at Kat, Peter cautiously asked, "Kat, what are you doing?"

"I'm writing up my formal protest of the decision to wait." She glanced at them, "And, when we get home, I shall thrash the both of you on the training yard. I also reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"

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They didn't leave the main room for several hours as they worked to secure all the documents they'd brought into diplomatic pouches. Nor did they accept the food the Telmarine servants had brought up, relying instead on their own travel rations. Peter finally stood, "I think I'll go finish packing."

Katerina watched him go into his room, shutting the door behind him. She hoped he also got some sleep before they had to leave. She sat for only a moment longer before she too retreated to her room. She didn't shut the door, though, while she set her saddlebags on the bed and worked to fold her clothes even smaller so she could cram them into the travel pack. She glanced up when Oreius finally followed her. He gently pushed her chin up, turning her face toward him as he examined her still swollen mouth. She patted his hand then pulled away, "It is nothing, Kentauri."

"You were angry earlier."

She shook her head, "No, not angry." She hadn't been angry. She had been scared and nearly suffocating from the feeling that they had to get out there. The niggling fear in the back of her mind continued chattering about how this was turning into a trap just like before… She forced the fear back down, reminding herself that she couldn't run blindly just because her instincts were screaming that she needed to get herself and her people out of there. That was stupid and she knew better. She finally registered that Oreius was looking at her with concern; glancing down, she realized that she was hugging herself. She quickly dropped her arms, but when Oreius held his arms out to her, she immediately accepted the invitation.

Hugging him tightly, she glanced up at him as he wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her forehead and held her until she pulled back. He gave her a slight smile, "You do realize this is the first time you have ever done the proper paperwork voluntarily?"

Katerina laughed, "Yeah, well, don't get used to it." She peered up at him, "Please tell me we leave early in the morn."

He nodded, "No later than fourth hour. I will force the guards to open the city gates if I must." He captured her hands in his, intertwining their fingers as he held their joined hands against his chest. "Remember, Alambiel, we need only to reach the border."

Yes, and then they would reach the Sisemaalian escort that Telmar knew about and their own soldiers who waited two days beyond the border at Sisemaal's capital. Of course, they had to get through three days' travel over the rugged terrain that was Telmar first. Katerina pushed the possible problems aside. No more invitations for Murphy. Keeping their hands entwined, she closed her eyes as Oreius leaned his forehead against hers and whispered once again, "We need only to reach the border." Just reach the border. _Aslan, let us reach the border. _

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"Why are the Narnians still free? I should be passing the night by watching their sorceress scream as the flames kiss her flesh and yet I'm not."

He watched, uncaring as the Lord of the Council pointed at him, "I cannot ambush people who are not there. I am not a sorcerer that I can conjure the Narnians."

"I paid you to rid Telmar of the Narnians. And, they are not to reach the border. You will fulfill the task I have paid you to do."

He gave the man a mocking bow, "Yes, my Lord. How convenient it is that the negotiations have broken down and the Narnians will leave for their home on the morrow. Do you not think so?"

The Lord of the Council glared at him, "Do not mock your betters. Your skills are not so needed that I won't kill you for your insolence."

He didn't respond. They both knew that the same reasons the high and mighty scion of one of the Six Families originally sought him out would keep him from attempting to replace him. All the others who would have the ability to carry out the task had sailed months ago, escaping Telmar's miserable winter for the profitable Eastern Sea. He hadn't caught the Narnians tonight, but there was always tomorrow. He would set up the next ambush for in the morning an hour outside the city at eighth hour. He would catch the Narnians before they could flee too far.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review. Okay, any guesses as to what happens next? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.  
**


	5. Chapter Five: Out Almost

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Five: Out…Almost

He seethed as dusk fell and his men returned from the woods surrounding the city empty-handed. The Lord of the Council had only just bothered to inform him that the Narnians had left four hours before his men had even set up their ambush. The Centaur apparently had quelled the guards' protest by lifting the heavy bar, one that required four Human men to move, and setting it aside so he and his companions could leave. He spat a curse. The Narnians weren't safe yet.

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9 Lenisgale 1007

Peter grabbed the pommel of his saddle to keep from being tossed as his horse stumbled for a moment before regaining its footing. Kat glanced over her shoulder at him from where she led the way atop Pepin, who was steadily picking his way along the sharp cliff edge, "Careful, Peter, you take a fall here and you will be fortunate if you get out of it with only a broken back."

"Thank you so much for the reminder, Kat. What happened to not invoking Murphy?"

She just shook her head as she turned to face the path again. Peter glanced over his own shoulder to see Oreius bringing up the rear of their little column. The Centaur didn't seem to be having any difficulties with the terrain. But then, Oreius rarely seemed to have difficulty even when something was difficult.

Tightening his grip on the pommel of his saddle again, Peter urged his horse to follow in Pepin's steps. He noticed Kat was gazing up the cliff again. She'd been downright jumpy since they'd left the capital. He had chosen to ask Oreius to handle it, which had resulted in a lot of Irish flying back and forth between the two for a good portion of the previous afternoon…the flurry of Irish had also continued when they finally stopped for the night. Today, though, Kat hadn't said much of anything in any language.

Oreius was alert but not alarmed, which helped allay the slight edge of worry that Kat's wariness had been provoking in him. Personally, Peter thought it was the backlash of what had happened when Kat and Oreius had been captured returning from Zelaia that was causing her to be so on edge. Not that he would tell Kat that, at least not until they were safely back in Narnia. He also more concerned about his horse stumbling and falling down one of the rocky crags they were currently traveling alongside.

Kat twisted in her saddle and waved at them. Peter blew out a breath as he realized they'd made it to another plateau. Thank the Lion for those welcome breaks in the navigating of difficult mountainous terrain. They emerged and Peter grinned when he saw the nice gradual slope, with gnarled and knotted winter-bare trees scattered up its face but nothing too difficult to navigate, leading to the next mountain. His grin dropped when a large net suddenly fell on Kat and Pepin, dragging horse and rider to the ground.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	6. Chapter Six: Caught in a Trap

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Six: Caught in a Trap

Katerina hissed as her leg was pinned between Pepin and the ground. Pepin thrashed, causing the net tighten around them, tangling his legs and causing more of his weight to land on her trapped leg. Barely keeping from screaming from the pain spiking in her leg, Katerina managed to touch Pepin's neck, calming the horse before he thrashed again. "Éasca, éasca, a bheith fós, Pepin. Bí go fóill. Buachaill maith, tá go bhfuil sé. Bí fós anois." _(Easy, easy, be still, Pepin. Be still. Good boy, that's it. Be still now.)_ Keeping one hand on the horse's neck in hopes of preventing him from panicking and thrashing again (which would break her leg for sure), Katerina struggled to unsheathe one of her knives as the weighted net held her close. A shout came from behind her somewhere, but it wasn't Oreius or Peter…

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A band of apparent bandits raced toward where Alambiel had been pinned as Oreius unsheathed his claymore. He met Peter's gaze and pointed to Alambiel, not waiting for an answer before he charged their attackers. He heard shouts for more nets then "Burn the sorceress." No. They would never get the chance.

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Peter flung himself out of the saddle, freeing Rhindon as he ran toward Kat. He cut down one bandit. Reaching Kat and Pepin, he grabbed the net and started slicing through it being careful not to nick either of them.

"Nets! Capture the humans! Net them! Net them!"

He moved forward, trying to cut the net where it was pinning Kat down. He'd almost gotten Rhindon into a position where he could slice the net when a heavy weight fell on him, dragging him down on top of Kat and Pepin.

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Katerina winced as she felt Rhindon slice a line down her side. Oh, that one was going to hurt when she moved. She struggled to keep Pepin from panicking, murmuring to the gelding in Irish. Peter tried to move only to further entangle all three of them in the nets. She hissed, "Stop moving!"

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He grinned as he watched the two humans become further trapped in the nets. This was going to be easier than he thought. The Centaur, though, he was going to be a problem. He had already killed five of the men and crippled two others. He raised his crossbow and sighted on the Centaur. His finger hovered on the trigger. The creature wore no armor and it would be easy to kill him…

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Oreius galloped toward the pile of nets. He had driven back the attackers for the moment, but there was no way to tell when they would attack again. In their position, he would not wait too long. "Hold still." Alambiel was murmuring to Pepin, keeping the horse still. Men shouted and he leaned down, grasping the first net and then he flung it at the men running toward them. They cried out in shock as the heavy net bore them down to the ground.

He pulled Peter up then made quick work of the net pinning Alambiel and Pepin, tossing it on top of the men already pinned by first net. Peter still clutched Rhindon in one hand as he snagged Pepin's reins with the other when the horse lurched to its feet, trotting a few paces away from where Alambiel still lay on the ground. Oreius leaned down and touched Alambiel's knee, the one that had been pinned beneath Pepin's weight. She grimaced. "I'm fine."

She was lying. But, he helped her to her feet, anyway. There wasn't time to coax Alambiel into heeding her injuries. Men shouted as they ran toward them. Out of the corner of his eye, Oreius saw Peter drop Pepin's reins and raise Rhindon, while Alambiel shifted her weight as she balanced more on her right leg. Their attackers rushed them even as others shouted for more nets.

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Steel rang as Peter locked blades with one bandit while Kat fought off another one. Oreius was behind them, guarding their backs against at least three more attackers. He grunted as he shoved hard against the other man's blade. Somehow, he'd gotten the bandit who was built more like an Ogre...or a brick wall. He pulled back quickly, causing the man to stumble forward. Peter rammed Rhindon into the bandit's chest then wrenched the blade free. He spun, catching a blade with the edge of his sword then sliding under it and cutting down the bandit. He heard Kat cry out.

Spinning back around, he saw her on the ground with a bandit towering over her. Peter ran back toward her. The man grabbed her hair as he stepped on her leg, making her cry out again as he pinned her at the same time he yanked her head back, exposing her throat to his curved dagger. Oreius reached them first. The Centaur didn't even bother with his sword. Instead, he grabbed the man, pulling him away from Kat and snapping the man's neck in one deft move.

Peter reached them just as Oreius helped Kat to her feet. He tensed as he heard the rest of the bandits (who had temporarily retreated) begin to cheer and shout about more nets, stronger nets. Oreius looked from Kat to him. His dark gaze was solemn, "Run. I will make sure you can get away."

Everything in him rebelled at the suggestion. "No! We'll fight them off together and then go."

He turned to Kat, more than expecting her to agree with him, to make Oreius see that he need not sacrifice his life. Kat was staring at Oreius with an unreadable expression then she slowly nodded, "Peter, get on Pepin. It's time to run."

He stared at her as she whistled for Pepin and the gelding cantered over to them. This was Kat. She never agreed to leaving people behind (unless it was herself). He shook his head again, raising Rhindon as the shouts started to come closer again. The bandits were about to attack again. "No. General Oreius, as your king, I forbid you from-"

Kat was the one who interrupted, "Wolfsbane! Obey! There are too many of them and Narnia needs you alive. We must go. Oreius..." She didn't finish as Oreius stepped forward and easily picked Peter up and tossed him into Pepin's saddle, as though he were still a mere boy and not a grown man of twenty. Then, before he could protest or leap down from the horse's back, Oreius set Kat on Pepin behind him. She grabbed his wrist and uttered something in Irish, "Fill ar ais."

Oreius gave a curt nod then slapped Pepin's haunch. The gelding bolted forward as Kat wrapped one arm around Peter, whispering in his ear. "Don't stop."

Everything in him rebelled against this utter break in his training to be the first into battle and the last out of battle. The very training that Oreius himself had drilled into Edmund and him for the last seven, almost eight years. He looked over his shoulder, past Kat's pale face. The Centaur stood in the middle of the path at the base of the mountain, his huge claymore at the ready as he guarded their retreat. Fierce, stern, and unmoved by the most likely outcome of his stand against their attackers. Pepin galloped around the bend and Oreius disappeared from view as the sheer cliffside loomed up beside them.

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What Kat told Oreius: "Return."

**A/N: Please Read and Review. Okay, posting a little early. Please leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter or I fear I shan't be motivated enough to keep writing chapters in spite of school and this story will fall into hiatus until fall semester is over (in December). **


	7. Chapter Seven: Flee

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seven: Flee

Kat leaned harder against him as she shouted a command in Irish to Pepin. The gelding surged forward, sliding and scrambling to keep racing up the path. Peter glanced back at her. She looked even paler than when they had…when they had left Oreius behind. Actually, she looked pained. Her eyes were cloudy as she met his gaze, "We must…we must get back to Narnia."

He opened his mouth but she suddenly slumped forward, landing rather heavily against his back. He grabbed her sleeve to keep her from sliding out of the saddle, "Kat!"

She didn't respond. He grabbed Pepin's reins from her limp fingers and slowed the gelding to a halt. Pepin snorted and stomped as he champed the bit. Peter grimaced. He had forgotten that Pepin was war-trained to the point that he was at best surly with anyone other than Kat. Hoping the gelding wouldn't decide to be too unfriendly, he slid out of the saddle. Kat slumped forward and Peter gasped when he saw the dark wetness spreading across her left side and her back. He barely touched it and Kat let out a soft moan of pain as his fingers came away red.

The side of a treacherous mountain was no place to tend wounds. Peter carefully shifted Kat forward so she was in the saddle. Pulling himself up behind her, he took the reins again. He had to get Kat to help, to proper healers and fast. _Aslan, help us._ He dug his heels into Pepin's sides, causing the gelding to lunge forward before he settled back into the fastest gallop Peter dared to allow. He didn't want to lose Kat, but he didn't want to fall down these cliffs either.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review. And, have a happy Labor Day. :)**


	8. Chapter Eight: Ensnared

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eight: Ensnared

He strolled forward, casually cradling his crossbow, as his men shouted for more nets. The Centaur had ruined seven of those very expensive nets before they had distracted him by loosing the Alsatians. As the dogs circled, barking and snapping at his legs, the Centaur had been unable to slice through the nets as they were tossed on him. Of course, it hadn't been until they had thrown over ten of the hundred pound nets on him that the weight had borne the creature to the ground. Even then, he didn't stop thrashing and almost regaining his feet until after they had piled seventeen nets on him.

His men threw two more nets on top of the Centaur. Now that the abomination was pinned by the equivalent of nineteen hundred pounds, he had finally stopped struggling. Dark eyes fixed an impassive gaze on him as he approached. "Why?"

He shrugged as he lifted his crossbow, "It is what I have been paid to do." He sighted and pulled the trigger, unleashing the bolt.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Yes, I know this another really short chapter but next chapter is much longer and will be posted on Monday. Also, look for another story _Lion and Flower_, which will consist of a series of snippets focusing on Peter and Thalia.**


	9. Chapter Nine: Oh Peter

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nine: Oh Peter

It was three hours past nightfall when Peter spotted the tiny dots of watch fires marking the border between Telmar and Sisemaal. "We're almost there, Kat."

Kat didn't respond. Of course, she hadn't responded since she first passed out. Peter shifted the reins to his left hand so he could raise his right hand in front of Kat's nose and mouth. He could still feel her shallow breaths warming his fingers slightly. She was alive, just unconscious. He could feel Pepin starting to turn around another bend in the path and he glanced back, hoping against hope that Oreius would suddenly race up behind them. But, no shadow detached itself from the dark mountain path behind them…Oreius wasn't going to catch up with them tonight.

Facing forward again, Peter clutched Kat as she started to slip to the right. "Not that way, Kat. It's a long way down and we're trying to avoid broken backs, remember?" Her breathing didn't change but he managed to move her so she was resting more against Pepin's neck. The gelding forged ahead in the darkness and Peter let him have his head, trusting the horse's night vision better than his own.

It seemed like hours before Pepin finally charged across the border, but it was barely into the second watch of the night judging by the crowd of soldiers. A familiar voice rang out over the crowd, shouting in Sisemaalian as a large man, towering head and shoulders above the others, forged his way toward them. "King Peter! What is… Grande Imperatore, preservare noi. Aavi! Rapidamente, la signora è ferito. Portare cibo e bevande per loro. Rapidamente ora!" _(Great Emperor, preserve us. Aavi! Quickly, the lady is wounded. Bring food and drink for them. Quickly now!)_

"Paavo, I have to-"

Paavo lifted Kat off Pepin, cradling her as gently as he held his own young children, and gave Peter a stern look. "Come, your majesty, you must rest. Eat, drink, and then rest. We will speak when you have done so. Do not fear for our friend Katerina, I will ensure that Aavi tends her wounds."

Weariness tugged at Peter as he slowly slid off Pepin's back then followed Paavo to one of the tents. He sat down on a pallet across from where Paavo had laid Kat. When Paavo returned with Aavi, they found the High King still sitting there and fast asleep.

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11 Lenisgale 1007

Mägi was dark as a mixture of sleet and rain poured from the sky, but the gloomy atmosphere surrounding the capital of Sisemaal seemed more than appropriate to the Narnians gathered in one of the larger chambers assigned to them by King Jukka. None spoke a word, although Hugh the large brown Bear loudly sniffled as he sucked honey off his paws, until the doors opened and the High King's personal guard, the Tiger twins, Bast and Babur, let themselves in. Lieutenant Lonn straightened, "The High King?"

Babur raised his head to meet the Faun's gaze, "He is still with Dame Sepphora. The Greyback brothers are watching over them both."

Bast added, "Those Wolf pups may be young, but they aren't so foolish as to allow harm to come to either the High King or Dame Sepphora. General Oreius permitted them to accompany our group for lessons and experience. They may finally put the lessons we have attempted to teach them while we waited here to use." A slight growl entered the Tigress's voice on the word 'waited' but none blamed her. In truth, it had grated on all of them that Telmar had demanded only the High King, General, and Princess Royal even approach their border as a condition of agreeing to the negotiations. And now…

Cumberbatch, a Black Dwarf, jerked his pipe out of his mouth and glared at the room in general. "Barrows and bellows! Those two whelps still haven't figured out that biting each other's tails is not the way for palace guards to act and for that matter-"

Lieutenant Lonn raised a hand, "Enough, Cumberbatch. Bast and Babur need to be here and so does everyone _except_ for Remus and Romulus Greyback. We need to decide what to do to best protect our charges."

Hugh took his paw out of his mouth long enough to ask in a very sleepy voice, "What of the General?"

Everyone stilled. That was the question they were truly struggling with. The heavy silence was abruptly broken by a clap of thunder, startling Hugh into dropping the honey pot he had just been about to dip a paw into and making the Tigers' fur stand on end. Lieutenant Lonn rubbed his forehead then sighed, "We have all heard the High King's report of the ambush and how the General stayed behind to allow them to escape."

Bast exchanged a look with her twin then tilted her head in thought, "Perhaps we can send a scout. Skeat, might you be able to find something that will tell us of the General's fate?"

The Red-Tailed Hawk flapped his wings restlessly as he balanced on the back of a chair, but before he could respond, Cumberbatch interrupted. "Bah! We know his fate." He chewed on the stem of his pipe for a moment before he continued darkly, "It was the same fate Narnians always experience when Telmarines or Calormenes catch us alone."

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"And then we accidentally bowled over Cumberbatch-"

"Not we! It was just Remus, your majesty. He bowled over Cumberbatch. But, Cumberbatch couldn't decide which one of us it was, so Lieutenant Lonn said we both had to be quiet and we weren't allowed to run all desaltry for the rest of the week."

Peter closed one eye and rubbed his jaw, "Do you mean 'desultory,' Romulus?" The grey Wolf (who, like his twin brother, was still more of a pup than an adult) nodded eagerly, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Peter's lips twitched with the hint of a smile. The Greyback brothers were young and new to Cair Paravel and Narnia herself as their parents had both been exiles from Jadis' cruel reign and only recently returned to Narnia, but Edmund had accepted their father's pledge of his sons' service five months earlier since it was so important to the Wolf's sense of honor.

He glanced back at Kat, who was still unconscious, but she would recover from her wounds. She had been stitched up by the Faun healer with their escort since Aavi had only felt comfortable with bandaging her well enough to last the journey to Mägi. But, she was not in any condition to move under her own power yet. Bast and Babur had finally left a few minutes earlier to meet with the rest of the guard about Oreius. Oh, they hadn't said it, but he knew that was why. Oreius… Peter moved closer to the window, clenching his fists. He knew that Oreius was most likely dead; otherwise, the Centaur would have crossed the border and joined them in the city by now. But- He glanced at Kat again. If she were conscious and able, she would have already gone back for Oreius or him if he were the one who had fallen behind. Peter couldn't imagine the Centaur who had become a sort of substitute father for him over the past seven years being dead. Guilt rose up again as he mused that if he had stayed behind, then Oreius would definitely be alive…no, neither Oreius nor Kat would have left if Peter had stood his ground. He should have made it a royal decree that he stay and fight as well. "First on to the field and last off it."

"What field, your majesty?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Peter whirled around to see Romulus giving him a quizzical look. "I was just talking to myself, Romulus. Now, you do remember that you are to stay in this room and you are not to let Kat out of your sight, correct?" He waited for Romulus to nod then continued, already feeling another pound of guilt add itself to the heavy weight around his neck, "Very good." He walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm- I'm going to clear my head. I think I'll take a nice long walk. Tell Bast and Babur not to worry if I'm not back when they return." Peter watched Romulus' ears prick and, for a moment, he feared the Wolf would ask to accompany him but then Remus snuck up behind his brother and bit his tail. The Wolves immediately started wrestling on the floor. Peter took advantage of their distraction and snuck out of the room. He stopped in his own room long enough to grab his pack, cloak, and Rhindon before hurrying down to the courtyard. As he slipped out of the city, Peter promised himself that he would make it up to the young Greyback brothers when he returned. He would assign them to be Edmund's personal guard. Yes, that's what he would do and it was about time Ed had his own personal guards anyway.

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"What is wrong with you? Have you learned nothing over the past five months? If you are assigned to guard one of the Four, you are _not _to leave their side, especially if it is the High King!"

Katerina opened her eyes just as the growling reprimand wound down long enough for a soft whine to be heard. She raised her head to see Remus and Romulus Greyback in front of a bristling Bast and Babur. The Wolves had their heads hunched down and their tails tucked between their legs as the Tigers growled at them. One of them, she was almost certain it was Romulus, quietly spoke up, "But, you told us not to leave this room. High King Peter told us the same thing and that we weren't to let Dame Sepphora out of our sight. We didn't see-"

Babur growled louder, baring his fangs, "You two were fooling around again, weren't you? Biting each other's tails and wrestling. Is it any wonder that you didn't see?"

Katerina frowned. Why exactly were the young Wolves being chewed out and what did Peter have to do with it? With a grimace, she sat up. Hissing at the pain spiking from her side and back, she barely registered that the Tigers had temporarily broken off berating Remus and Romulus before Lieutenant Lonn appeared by her bed. "Your highness, you should not be moving. You may tear your stitches."

She ignored the Faun. Instead, she focused on more important matters and quietly asked. "Where is Peter?" Lonn froze in the middle of trying to get her to lie back down and she knew. "He's gone."

Lonn nodded slowly, "He apparently took advantage of the Greyback brothers' distraction to sneak out of this room…and to sneak out of the city. We could find no trace of him in this weather. The scent trail was already washed away by the downpour."

Katerina lurched to her feet, only to gasp in pain and clutch at her side as her legs buckled. Lonn caught her and hastily lowered her back on to the bed, "Let me get Morri. He can check your stitches before another search party leaves."

"No. I'm fine." She met the Faun's eyes and made her tone the strict command of a superior officer, "No more search parties. Wolfsbane has gone back to Telmar to find Oreius. We all know it."

Lonn didn't argue nor did he presume to issue an order, instead he quietly asked, "What do we do?"

She hated to make the decision. It was the polar opposite of what she wanted to do, but even she had to admit (however reluctantly) that she was in no shape to go back for Oreius herself. "We return to Cair Paravel. We cannot even approach the Telmarine border without there being open war declared between our countries. The ambush cannot be proven to be anything but the work of bandits. And, we are too few in number to find and rescue our missing people."

Bast and Babur both growled from where they and the cowed Greyback brothers had been listening. Katerina raised herself enough (with Lonn's help) to give them a sharp look. "We cannot risk war. Peter is an idiot for going off by himself, but this time we cannot help him. And, you have reprimanded Remus and Romulus quite enough. Nothing further is to be said of it and the blame is not truly with them anyway. Peter would have found a way to sneak out of here even if they hadn't provided him with the perfect opportunity. We will all scold him when he drags himself back into Narnia." She winced and lay back down on her uninjured side, easing the pressure on her wounds. "We leave in two hours."

They did not argue. She knew they didn't like it anymore than she did, but they would obey. _Aslan, watch over Peter and Oreius. Bring them back to us. Peter…Peter, I pray you find my Kentauri._

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Peter pulled the hood of his sodden cloak closer. He was grateful that a kindly vineyard owner had taken pity on him and offered the stranded traveler a ride to the nearest border outpost. He'd stopped an hour's walk shy of the border to let Peter down, but Peter didn't mind at all. He was already ahead of schedule in regards to when he had originally speculated that he would reach the border. Now, he was on the border. He'd already avoided a border patrol. He stared at the mountainous terrain through the misty screen of rain (the sleet had thankfully dissipated a few hours earlier) and adjusted his pack. This was it. No one would be able to help him if he got into trouble on the other side of the borderline, not without jeopardizing Narnia's well-being. But, he had to know what had really happened to Oreius and if the Centaur was alive, he was going to find him. Peter set a hand to Rhindon's hilt and then he trekked into Telmar, allowing the mist and rain to swallow him up. Aslan only knew what he would find.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Tiger twins, Bast and Babur, belong to WillowDryad who is graciously allowing me to use them. The next chapter will be posted on Monday the 16th. :)**

**A/N2: To Annoyed fan and all my other readers, I apologize for the original Ch. 8 author's note containing an apparent "review threat." Threats weren't my intent. Reviews in any amount are always appreciated and they are also encouragement to keep writing because it's proof that readers actually want to know what happens next in any given story. That said, I will not be asking for X amount of reviews in future postings as I do not wish to cause further offense. ****~ Lady A**


	10. Chapter Ten: Lost in the Mist

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Lost in the Mist

Peter slipped and hissed quietly as he landed hard on his hands and knees. He could have used Edmund's company right at that moment. At least, then he wouldn't be wandering around in the fog and rain and sleet by himself. Not to mention the fact that Edmund was the truly sneaky one of the two of them. Finding a small outcropping that jutted out just enough to provide some shelter from the weather, Peter huddled under it, shivering as he pulled out some rations and quickly devoured them.

Remembering all of Oreius' long lectures and painstaking lessons about how to properly care for one's sword in inclement weather, Peter dug in his pack and came up with a dry sock. It would do…but he would be sure not to tell Susan about finding another extraneous use for his sock. He slid Rhindon free of its sheath and carefully dried the blade of any moisture. He paused to trace the runes decorating the center of the blade with a gloved finger, remembering when he had asked Oreius what they meant during that first training lesson before Beruna. The Centaur's solemn answer was that two lines of prophecy had been inscribed on the blade. Peter quietly whispered, his breath forming small clouds in front of him, "When Aslan bares His teeth, winter meets its death. When He shakes His mane, we shall have spring again."

He had immediately recognized the words as the same prophecy Mr. Beaver had spoken with such hope and reverence. Oreius had looked into his eyes as he handed Rhindon back to him, not releasing the blade until he had told him, "These words are not simply a rhyme, my Prince. They are a reminder of why you fight and who has given you the power to go into battle. For Aslan and for Narnia. May this inscription ever be a reminder to you for however long you wield this sword."

Sheathing Rhindon, Peter slowly tugged his pack back on and once again began to trek through the mountains. The mist darkened as what little sunlight there was vanished. Peter stumbled again and, for one terrifying moment, he felt nothing but air beneath his feet. He dug his fingers into the rock and wriggled backwards until he was once again solidly on the mountain path. He scooted back until he bumped against the side of the cliff then and only then did he climb back to his feet. Hugging the cliff, Peter cautiously worked his way forward until his groping hand touched a rock that jutted out from the cliff. He peered through gloom and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it formed an outcropping he could shelter under for the rest of the night. Sitting back down, Peter dug out his tinderbox and quickly built a small but steady fire. Determined to get an early start in the morning, he didn't take long to eat, check his sword, and then hastily curl up in a blanket while his cloak dried next to the small fire.

He had woken even earlier than he'd expected, but the fog was somewhat lighter than it had been and, not wanting to waste any time, he scarfed down some food as he walked deeper into Telmar. As hours passed, Peter couldn't seem to keep his mind from drifting toward his last sight of the Centaur General. Oreius couldn't be dead. After all, Peter had seen him survive many things he shouldn't have and only twice with the cordial's help. Peter hadn't realized for the first year or so what Oreius had become to him. In fact, it wasn't until one day when he was fifteen that he had come to realize that Oreius had essentially become his surrogate father.

Peter felt his cheeks flushing as he recalled it had been the day after a particularly embarrassing proposition had been made by a woman who had offered to teach him…well, it had been a very inappropriate offer. Oreius had requested he join him on a walk. The Centaur had seemed stern and towered over him as they walked in silence along the beach. They were well away from the Cair when Oreius finally stopped and looked at him, "Peter, there is something you should keep in mind when you are approached by these women who wish to wed you or, as you have learned, think they might be able to at least share your bed or have you share theirs. You are first and foremost Aslan's. It is not His way for us to share such an intimate relationship with anyone besides our spouses. It is not easy and I have no doubt that you will be tempted, especially with so many females making such offers. However, there are many dangers to indulging in such behavior, Peter. Not just the political implications, but also the implications it would have on you as a person. For to be so intimate, you will always leave a piece of your heart with them and how then would you explain to the woman you choose to wed, you choose to love that you cannot give her your full heart?"

Peter remembered that while he'd still been a bit embarrassed, he'd also realized that was the first time Oreius had completely left off his title. He recalled that he had slowly nodded, "I understand that, Oreius. And, truly, I don't want to have that happen."

The Centaur had startled him as he blew out a heavy breath, "Now, I understand why my father had been so nervous when he pulled me aside for this same lecture."

Peter had grinned then a thought occurred and he cautiously asked, "Oreius, you're not married, have you ever, umm?"

"Been tempted?" The Centaur looked out across the sea then slowly nodded, "Once. But, I also resisted it, knowing I did not love that filly and remembering my father's words of wisdom." Oreius had squeezed his shoulder, "You are growing into a man of honor, Peter. Your path will be both easy and hard, but I believe you will prevail through it all. Just remember that a pretty smile is not always the best way to judge someone's character."

Peter had nodded solemnly. He realized that Oreius had spoken to him as a father would speak to his son, not as a General would speak to his King. "Thank you, Oreius." He shuddered, "I really would prefer to keep from finding any more naked women in my rooms with Edmund and the girls right behind me no less."

The Centaur had chuckled, "I believe I have a plan in the works that will aid in preventing any more meetings like yesterday's." Not quite a full year later, Peter had found himself with Bast and Babur as his personal guard and Oreius had smirked when he reminded him that their presence had the added benefit of deterring any unwanted and unauthorized visitors to his private chambers.

Peter shook his head, clearing away the memory. It was funny that out of the myriad of memories of Oreius acting as his surrogate father, that was the one that had emerged to the fore. He also remembered when Oreius had interceded on his behalf by speaking with Thalia's father about Peter's intention to court her as was tradition for Narnian fathers to do if the lady's father was disinclined to believe the suit was in earnest. The Centaur had even given him some suggestions about how best to court Thalia in a manner that would also appease her very protective father. No, Oreius couldn't be dead. There had to be a chance that he was still alive. Peter wasn't ready to lose another father…

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15 Lenisgale 1007

Peter frowned as he passed another rocky area that looked rather familiar. Peering closer at one of the boulders, he let out an exasperated groan. He'd marked this rock. He'd just wasted an entire day walking in a giant circle.

Sighing, Peter turned back to the path and trudged forward again. He couldn't stop now. He walked less than thirty feet before he froze mid-step. Voices were drifting toward him. He quickly hunkered down behind a large boulder, his hand wrapped around Rhindon's hilt but not pulling it free just yet. The mist was heavy again and the slightest sound would be amplified. The speakers moved closer until he could just barely make out their shadowed forms as they stopped perilously close to his hiding spot.

"We're wasting our time. Rahzjin has lost his mind. No one is going to come back for that freak. We coulda been in Tashbaan, enjoying the hospitalities of them Calormene dancing girls. But no, Rahzjin had to keep us from setting sail and now we're out here, searching and waiting, searching and waiting for some idiot to come back in these mist-shrouded, ghost-infested _mountains_!" There was a pause as 'MOUNTAINS' echoed, but then the man continued, "Do you have any idea what the Calormene dancing girls are like? Mmm, what I wouldn't give to be able to-"

Another man snapped, "Shut up, Ozelle! Your bellyaching like a sore whale won't get us to Tashbaan. It won't even get us off these accursed mountains. So stop going on about the dancing girls! Ahhh, go back to the Shark's camp and give him the report."

Ozelle grumbled, "The old Shark will probably just assign _me_ to help lug the Centaur's deadweight around. Rahzjin shoulda just cut off his head, but noooo, he had to agree to bring back whatever we caught whole."

Peter ignored the rest of Ozelle's grumbling and his companion's scolding. His heart felt like lead. _Deadweight. Lugging the Centaur's deadweight… No. Aslan, no, it can't be. _Oreius couldn't be dead…and 'deadweight' didn't always mean dead. Unshed tears burned as he gulped and pressed back against the boulder while he fought with himself over what to do. Oreius was dead. No. Peter forced his grief back down. No, he didn't know that for sure and he wasn't going to leave until he found out. And…and if Oreius was dead, he would bring his killers to justice.

Peter balled his hands into fists as he listened for the other man to leave. Ozelle cursed then stomped away from Peter's hiding spot, still muttering about the Calormene dancing girls and ghost-infested mountains. Peter rose silently and followed the man. He might not be as sneaky as Edmund, but all the complaining Ozelle was indulging in would be more than enough to cover any small missteps he might make. Ozelle would lead him straight to this Rahzjin and then Peter would either rescue Oreius or…or he would make sure these men never stole another life.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! The incident leading up to Oreius' interceding on Peter's behalf with Thalia's father is detailed in my story ****_Lion and Flower_****.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Shark's Camp Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Eleven: The Shark's Camp, Part One

Peter crept toward the ring of campfire. It had been easy to follow Ozelle to the camp and now that everyone was asleep or gathered around the tent that Ozelle had disappeared into, presumably to make his report to this Rahzjin, he was able to creep closer. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the large pile of twisted nets just inside the camp. Oreius. It had to be him.

He carefully edged closer, taking care not to step on any of the brittle twigs scattered across the ground. A single sentry appeared and Peter froze. The sentry looked like a man on a mission as he stalked past the pile of nets wrapped around Oreius. Peter feared that he'd been spotted. His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger he'd borrowed from Kat (though he hoped she wouldn't notice it was gone until he was able to give it back to her since she was so very tetchy when it came to her knives). The sentry came closer, but he was walking funny and he had a pinched expression. He didn't even look at Peter as he hurried to a more sheltered area, disappearing from view. A muffled cursing about bad cooking reached Peter's ears and he relaxed as he suspected the sentry's misfortune would allow him more time to complete his plan than he'd hoped.

He swiftly made his way to the pile of nets. He inhaled sharply when he saw the dark stains on the nets that could only be blood. His voice sounded unsure and shaky as he whispered, "Oreius? Can you hear me?"

He grabbed the nets and started cutting through them with the dagger. After he cut through the eighth net, he finally heard a low groan. He froze mid-cut and leaned closer. Oreius' face was covered with blood, but his eyes were open. Peter felt relief flood through him. "Thank Aslan. Oreius, just hang on until I cut through rest of the nets. How badly are you hurt?"

The Centaur's dark eyes narrowed at him as he rasped, "Leave. Peter, you need to leave."

Peter shook his head as he continued cutting through the nets. He was almost down to the last four when Oreius rasped, "Peter, leave!" Peter shook his head again, but Oreius didn't let him protest. Instead, he ordered, "You must leave now. Go. Wolfsbane, go."

A new voice cut in before either one could say anything, "Oh I don't think either of you will be leaving our company…not until I finish what I was paid to do anyway."

Rough hands grabbed his arms, wresting the knife away, and restraining him. Hands grabbed his hair and yanked his head back so he could see the man standing over both him and Oreius. A cruel smile stood out from the man's otherwise plain features. If not for that smile and the cold gaze, the man could have blended in anywhere and never be noticed. He gritted his teeth, "You have committed several offenses against the sovereign nation of Narnia. Release us and you will receive mercy."

The man laughed, but there was no warmth or true humor in it. It was a cold facsimile of a true laugh. "I fear your majesty does not comprehend where the balance of power lies. You and the Centaur will be taken back to those who purchased my services. Now, he wanted the sorceress as well, when can I expect her to attempt to free the two of you?"

"She did not return with me."

"Pity, she would have made a nice bonfire. Ah well, even I, Rahzjin, cannot catch what is not to be found."

Peter narrowed his eyes at the man and assumed a frosty tone, "Hear me, Rahzjin of Telmar, you have made a deadly mistake in capturing us. You will rue it before the end."

Rahzjin's cold facsimile of a laugh echoed across the camp again, "I am the Shark of the land and the seas. I fear nothing because I will consume you all in the end." He nodded to his men, "Chain him up after you search him."

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Oreius closed his eyes as Peter was dragged away. _Oh that foolish colt. Why had he come back? Did none of the lessons I have taught him stick?_

"It is interesting that the sorceress did not return for you herself. She probably would have been more successful than this barely grown eagle."

Oreius opened his eyes and fixed a baleful glare on the man who called himself 'the Shark.' "Only fools speak of things they do not know."

Rahzjin sneered at him, "Careful, Centaur, or I might shoot you again and not through your arm this time."

"He was right. You have made a mistake and you _will_ rue it, I promise you."

The self-proclaimed Shark stared at him for a long moment before he smirked, "No, I don't think I will, Centaur. In fact, if things go the way I should like them to, this eagle will have his wings clipped and then he will beg for death long before I finally deign to devour him. I wonder if you will enjoy watching that or will _you_ rue it?"

Oreius thrashed, nearly tossing the nets off him, but they were tangled too tightly around his legs for him to stand. Still, he took some satisfaction in the fact that Rahzjin stepped back. The man stared down at him, eyes narrowed in disgust, "Perhaps my men were right and I should have separated your head from your shoulders." Oreius didn't answer and the Shark was apparently tired of waiting for him to speak as he spun and stalked back toward the tents. Oreius quit straining against the nets and lay still once more. _Peter, you should not have returned to this country._

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, now that we're back with the bad guys, the next three chapters are going to be quite dark with the last two earning a 'High T' rating. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. **


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Shark's Camp Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twelve: The Shark's Camp, Part Two

_She did not return with me._ Oreius stared up at the half-hidden stars, trying not to give in to the worry clawing at his heart. He had not expected the colt to return. No, he had been expecting Alambiel to be the one who came back for him if he had been unable to fight his way free. When he saw Peter, he had fully expected Alambiel to be somewhere nearby because she would never willingly allow the colt to do something this foolish without her, but there had been no lie in his voice or his eyes. Alambiel hadn't come. There were very few things in this world that would keep Alambiel away…death was the primary reason that came to mind. _Oh Aslan, let it not be so._ But, Peter had had her knife, the one Oreius had given her after she'd been in Narnia for a year. He knew she favored that knife the most after her own twin blades and she would not have been easily parted from it. He needed to speak to the colt alone. He needed to know what had happened to his Alambiel. He needed to know if…he needed to know her condition.

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Peter tugged against his bonds, twisting his wrists as he tried to either wriggle free or reach the knots, but the knots were too tight. He grimaced as the ropes bit into his wrists. If only he could reach his boot knife. He was barely able to slip two fingers inside the top of his boot before he had to give up on that idea. Between his tied hands and the rope wrapped around his ankles, he just couldn't get his hands far enough down to reach the boot knife.

He wriggled his wrists again then froze as the tent flap was pulled aside. He assumed an impassive look and raised his head defiantly as the Shark walked in. If he expected him to be terrified and begging for his life, Peter would make sure he was sorely disappointed. "Your hospitality is rather lacking, Rahzjin of Telmar. Even the Calormenes and sorcerers have had the courtesy to inform me why I was treated so ill. Or do you have no cause and merely wish to provoke Narnia?"

The Telmarine stared down at him with an emotionless calculating glint in his eyes. One of his men moved to strike Peter, but Rahzjin raised his hand, stopping the blow before it came. "Are you familiar with the sea eagle, boy? A magnificent bird but it is not the ruler of the sea. The shark rules the sea and I have watched many a sea eagle, haughty, young, and proudly confident that it was safe from all danger, be devoured by a shark. Perhaps you might heed that lesson, young eagle."

Peter raised his chin, "If you wish to negotiate, We suggest you unbind Us and Our companion, the Centaur. Furthermore, Our dear friend and cousin has been wounded by your hand and is in need of having his wounds tended. Do these things and it will go far in persuading Us to treat you with more mercy than you deserve, scavenger."

Rahzjin once again indulged in that cold facsimile of a laugh. Peter felt a cold chill crawl down his spine as the sound filled the tent. That laugh made Rahzjin sound more inhuman than any number of Fell, it was as if he were merely attempting to copy other humans instead of actually understanding and feeling the reason for laughter. He had no empathy…that's what was different about this foe. Rahzjin finally stopped laughing, "And, why should I negotiate? I do not want your mercy. There is no such thing as mercy, it is a lie concocted by those too weak to go in for the kill because they think it will help them live longer. The sea teaches many things and it reveals the truth that we all die eventually, but only some of us die as the great hunters…the rest are pathetic and deny they are but prey to provide the great hunters what they require to survive. Even sea eagles are nothing more than prey to the greatest of hunters."

Peter shook his head slowly, "You've a sad view of the world. You call yourself the Shark and think that will allow you to hide from your crimes? You cannot hide from your crimes forever and We daresay that you will not live as long as those who do believe in and grant mercy when they can. You hunt beyond your skill and the cold, merciless world you have created for yourself will turn on you and devour you."

Rahzjin crouched in front of him then grabbed his jaw, forcing his head to tilt one way and then another all while studying him through narrowed eyes. Peter forced himself not to give into the urge to flinch away or tremble as he resolutely met those cold emotionless eyes. He would not show fear in the face of this coldness. For a moment, he thought the Shark would do something, but the Shark only shoved him back, causing him to fall on his bound wrists. Peter hissed, but the Shark merely left the tent with his men following in his wake, all without saying another word. But, somehow Peter didn't think he'd won a victory. No, he was certain that this only the first encounter with a very dangerous foe.

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Rahzjin sealed the letter and sent it off with the messenger hawk. The Narnians were unusual prey as he had only captured a Sea Nymph or two before them, but he truly would have preferred the more profitable prey of the islanders. Still, hunting that Centaur was more of a thrill than he had hoped for and these two together would net him a handsome enough price to purchase favor with the Tisroc's favorite sons. He finished the second letter and sent it off with the second messenger hawk.

He could not wait until the two Lords of the Council realized they had both purchased his services. The looks on their faces…oh, he could already imagine them and then there would be blood in the water. He would devour the loser like the shark he was and then he would return to hunting in the Eastern Sea. He wondered if the youngest "queen" of Narnia, the one said to be in charge of the Eastern Sea, would be a worthy meal…

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! All right, I'm posting early due to school interfering, so I may not get the chance to post again until October 14th. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Shark and Eagle Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Extra Chapter Warning: High T for this chapter. Sensitive readers ye be warned.

Chapter Thirteen: Shark and Eagle, Part One

17 Lenisgale 1007

Peter strained against the knots, but they still wouldn't budge. His stomach growled, protesting the fact that it had been the better part of two days since he'd last eaten as the Shark's men had only allowed him to have water. He jerked his head up when he heard a far more menacing set of growls. Two Alsatians burst into the tent and immediately lunged for him, teeth flashing and saliva flying as they growled and barked. Instinctively, he jerked away from those snapping jaws.

The dogs nearly reached him when they let out sharp yelps as they were yanked back by the chains he could now see were forming the dogs' collars. Peter schooled his face into an impassive mask as soon as he realized it had been a game for the Shark, but he had already lost the first round. Rahzjin's eyes glittered as he kept the snarling dogs by his side, "You do not like my pets, young eagle? Not so confident now that you are far removed from the safety of the sky and your eyrie, are you? Do you still think your foolish concept of mercy will save you? Shall we find out?"

He loosened his grip on the dogs' chains and they raced forward, growling and snapping. Peter forced himself not to jerk away from those flashing teeth. He could feel the dogs' hot breath and even some saliva hitting his face before Rahzjin once again yanked the dogs away. The Shark surveyed him with a cold look as he staked the dogs' chains to the ground. An eerie sense of foreboding crawled up Peter's spine as the Shark continued to watch him. And then, his stomach growled again. The Shark flashed his teeth (he wouldn't go so far as to call it a smile) and asked, "Are you hungry, young eagle?"

He didn't answer, but that didn't seem to matter to the Shark, who opened the tent flap long enough to accept a large bowl of something. The Alsatians growled and snapped at each other as they jostled for position. That eerie sense of foreboding grew stronger as the Shark reached into the bowl and pulled out some raw meat. He held it toward him, "Perhaps you would care for some meat? No? Very well." He tossed the meat in between the two dogs.

Peter hid his distaste over the way Rahzjin deliberately provoked the dogs into fighting with each other over a single scrap of meat. Rahzjin's eyes bore into his, leaving him with a hunted feeling as the man tossed a few more strips of meat to the dogs. "They are also hungry, young eagle. And, they do not often receive such a treat as horsemeat. Especially not horsemeat as rare as this."

Peter furrowed his brow. The Shark was trying to play another game, but what exactly did he… Rahzjin tossed a bloody piece of meat at him and it hit his boot with a slap. This piece of horsemeat still had hide covered in black horsehair attached to it. Black horsehair…rare horsemeat. Bile rose in Peter's throat as he had the horrifying thought that it might be, that Rahzjin could have killed Oreius. _No, why would this Shark kill Oreius after keeping him alive? Unless he didn't need him alive anymore because he had…me._ He lowered his head for a moment as horror and grief and revulsion warred to find an outlet, but then he forced them all down. He raised his head and met the Shark's cold eyes, "If you have harmed what is Ours, We will see you pay the price in full. If you seek to play games, We will win. If you threaten Our people again, We will see the threat turned on you. We have offered mercy but you choose instead to offer harm and cruelty and malice in its stead. Therefore, We will warn you this once. Once more, We will offer mercy to you, Rahzjin of Telmar, but if, at the time of the offering, you reject Our mercy, We will offer it no more and you will receive the fate you have earned."

The Shark sneered as he dumped the rest of the horsemeat on the ground. "Mercy. Mercy has no place in this world. You, young eagle, will learn that truth soon enough."

A man pulled the tent flap back, interrupting Rahzjin before he could continue, "They're here!"

Rahzjin didn't look pleased but before he left, he leaned close to Peter and breathed, "I will devour you." Then Peter was left with only the Alsatians, who were still fighting over the meat, for company.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, the next chapter will also be rated High T, but this should be the worst of it. Leave a review and let me know what you think about this one.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Shark and Eagle Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Extra Chapter Warning: High T for this chapter. Sensitive readers ye be warned.

Chapter Fourteen: Shark and Eagle, Part Two

Rahzjin stalked into his tent, satisfaction at the obvious tension between the two Lords of the Council warring with his displeasure at being interrupted before he could finish breaking the so-called High King. He didn't greet them as they no doubt thought themselves entitled to his utmost subservience and he had no intention of performing any acts of obeisance to these two. They were in his territory and soon they would learn that he was the Shark and he devoured any who dared imagine themselves his master. But, first…first, he would watch them drain their own blood into the water.

Picking up one of his daggers, Rahzjin sat in the only chair and dragged a sharpening stone along the dagger's curved edge. Both lords were glaring at him in a mix of anger and affront, but there was a little thread of trepidation in their body language as well. He did not speak, relishing the way he could sense their consternation grow as their eyes were drawn to the movement of his hands as he scraped the stone along the knife and waiting for the first one, the weakest one, to break. The sound of the stone grinding against the blade filled the tent and he watched as their mounting apprehension grew until the weakest of the lords finally reached his breaking point.

The lord hissed, "We had a bargain, Rahzjin. You work for me! Why is this petty vulture here? What treachery have you chosen to take part in? An abduction or maybe he has paid you to be my assassin, backstabbing eel that he is."

The other lord pulled himself up, "_You_ hired him? You who sends out ships with weakened keels and then wonder why your vessels continually break their backs. As for assassination…if I were to sully my hands enough to bring about your death, it would be because I broke your neck. And an abduction would be fruitless for your sons would be more eager to fight over who takes your seat on the council than to pay for your carcass." He pointed at Rahzjin, "And considering the obscene amount of silver I paid you to remain in port, Shark, you had best explain to the lord of goats just who has seniority."

"Lord of goats! Those are brave words for one whose mother came from an alley by the docks!"

"Ha! If my mother came from an alley by the docks, at least _she_ was of Telmarine stock, which is more than one can say of your mother."

Rahzjin coolly interrupted (after all he did not want them to kill each other just yet) as he barely touched his thumb to the blade, "One of the things I admire most about our people is that, unlike the Calormene, we always make our insults clear. It is so…straightforward, do you not agree, Kazimierz?"

The Lord of the Council turned baleful eyes on him, "You play a dangerous game, Rahzjin. You'd best think about who you really are loyal to before you let this upstart dictate your actions and that slaughter we passed had better not be the one I paid you to bring to me alive."

The other lord sneered, "It is you who is the upstart, Kazimierz. Scavenger, you would not have had the opportunity to hire him if I had not already purchased his expertise, causing him to stay in port." He turned to Rahzjin, "Shark, I expect you brought me exactly what I paid you to when we made our second bargain." He left the tent, no doubt thinking he had made an intimidating representation of his imagined importance, the posturing fool.

Kazimierz jabbed his finger at Razhjin, "Just who are you loyal to, Rahzjin?"

Rahzjin bared his teeth at him, "I am loyal to who I have always been. Myself."

The lord stared down at him for a long moment then spoke softly, "You should remember who made you…before it is too late."

He turned, cape billowing behind him, and Rahzjin mused about how easy it would be to strangle him simply using that cape. Still, he never let an attempt at threats pass and he called out just before Kazimierz left, "Lord Tuanka was correct about one thing. I would not have been in port for you to pay for my services if he had not already paid for me to stay in port." He returned to sharpening his knife as he listened to Kazimierz growl a curse. Yes, there was blood in the water and soon he would finish bleeding them out.

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18 Lenisgale 1007

_"My Kings, this lesson will be more difficult for you than others, but I urge you to heed my words and always keep them in the back of your mind. Not at the fore, Wolfsbane, where they will distract you from the task at hand. But, as kings and knights, you must always be aware of this fact: Should an enemy ever hold your majesties as hostages, you will always be the more valuable prisoners."_

_He glanced at Edmund, who was frowning in thought, then looked back at their Centaur General. "But…what would that mean for anyone who was captured with us? I mean, obviously if we were being held hostage, the ransom demands would be greater than that for the others."_

_Oreius met his gaze with solemn eyes then in the same pragmatic tone he would use when informing them of the varied useful indications pain provided for them, he simply stated, "If your enemy was to have other hostages, you would be the most valuable to them and the other hostages would be expendable. Perhaps not right away, but they would inevitably become expendable."_

_He tried not to let that weigh too heavily on his mind even as he asked, "How can we prevent that from happening?"_

_Edmund spoke first, "My guess would be that we shouldn't get captured, so they can't hold us hostage."_

_Oreius' mouth had twitched slightly before he drily commented, "That is a beginning. However, since I have a feeling you will be captured at least once every two years, if we are fortunate, we will discuss other ways of escaping before such a situation would occur."_

Peter opened his eyes as a low growl filled the air. It took him a moment to reorient himself and realize that the dogs were gone. Another growl sounded and he realized it was his stomach and the growls were accompanied by sharpening pangs of hunger. Guilt and grief warred as soon as he recalled what happened with the Shark. He had gone into a dangerous situation without properly preparing and Oreius had paid the price.

But, maybe… Maybe Rahzjin was merely trying to play cruel head games with him? Oreius might not be dead. The memory of the meat that the Shark had fed to the dogs immediately resurfaced and Peter wondered how his body still managed to demand food when he had those images in his head. He grimaced as he tried unsuccessfully to force the memory back down. _The other hostages will become expendable. Why? Why didn't I have a better plan? I should have brought Bast and Babur. I should have waited for Kat to wake up and asked for her help in creating a better plan, a real plan. I should have-_

Peter's silent self-recrimination was interrupted as the Shark entered the tent. The man was watching him with the cold eyes of a soulless predator. Peter shoved the guilt down and raised his chin slightly as he rasped, "Have you come to accept Our offer of mercy?"

That cold facsimile of a laugh filled the tent again and Peter resisted the urge to say something unwise. He had to keep his head now. Oreius… That was what Oreius would have expected him to do now, that and to look for an avenue of escape. Rahzjin laughed a little too long, making his laugh seem even more of a mere copy of true laughter, before he stopped and a cruel smile lit his plain features. He crouched in front of Peter but didn't hit him. Instead, he countered in a tone that could only be described as being full of dark amusement, "Perhaps you should be asking about _my_ offer of mercy."

Peter put a measure of coolness in his voice as he quietly replied, "What good would it do Us to ask for mercy from one who does not believe in the concept?"

The Shark stared at him in silence for a long moment. His eyes remained cold and emotionless, but he did not grow angry. The silence stretched until Rahzjin hitched his shoulders, forming a brief shrug, "True. But, do not worry, young eagle. You will beg for something before this is over, no mercy will be given, of course, but you will still beg. Shall we discuss what it is you will be so desperately begging for after another day or so in my keep?"

Peter clenched his jaw, refusing to answer the taunt. He could feel the tenseness growing as the silence stretched on, but he would not let himself break. However, he found his body betraying his intentions when his growling stomach abruptly broke the silence. The Shark's eyes glinted with satisfaction as he stood, "Hungry are we, young eagle? I have something that is the main ingredient in one of the delicacies my people favor. Would you like a peek before I order the cook to make a meal out of them?"

Something about Rahzjin's manner set Peter on edge. He didn't think he wanted to know what the Shark considered a delicacy. The Shark stood back up and then crossed the tent opening, pulling back the flap and accepting a proffered bowl from one of his men. The bowl was large with a flat bottom, but Peter couldn't see what was inside. The Shark bared his teeth at him then set the bowl down directly in front of him. Still wary but unable to help himself, Peter looked into the bowl and wished he hadn't as he was forced to bite back a scream of grief, horror, and rage at the sight.

Four severed and bloody horse hooves lay in the bowl, three were black under the congealed blood but the fourth one had a white pastern marking. They matched Oreius' coloring and marking. They matched… Peter shifted his hands, causing the ropes to dig further into his battered wrists, which resulted in a flash of pain that was enough to stop himself from gagging or, worse, giving any signs of the grief and the horror he felt. He kept an impassive mask in place by sheer willpower. Now, he had a far greater appreciation of how Susan and Edmund kept their faces clear of their true emotions when they were busy being diplomatic. Now, he could wonder how Kat and…and Oreius almost always kept their faces from betraying their true feelings in any given situation. It was far more difficult to do so than he had imagined or even remembered from previous times. Perhaps, it was only more difficult because he was faced with-

Peter involuntarily glanced back down into the bowl then immediately averted his eyes, but it wasn't fast enough to keep that horrible image from being emblazoned into his mind. He nearly gagged. He could feel the burning sensation as bile rose in his throat. He glared up at the Shark whose face was awash with cruel delight as he leaned forward and held up a bloody sword that Peter hadn't seen him bring in. "Recognize it?" Confusion was followed by a wave of even greater horror as he recognized the lion head hilt. It was Rhindon. The bloody blade was Rhindon. _Oh no. _The Shark leaned in closer, allowing Peter to see bits of hide and black horsehair mixing with the blood covering Rhindon's blade, and he smiled. "I started with the hooves, you know. Then I finally untied him, but he could not run away from this blade. You should have seen his eyes. The ring of white around his dark eyes from fear and the way his whole body shivered from both the pain and the fear. It was _glorious_. All he wanted to do was run, to abandon everything in order to get away from the pain, but he knew he couldn't, that it was too late."

With those last disturbing words, the Shark abruptly left, but the bowl and its contents remained. Peter blinked hard and whispered, "I'm sorry, Oreius. I'm so sorry I caused this to happen." But, it was too late. His teacher, friend, and surrogate father had already paid the price for his foolish and arrogant confidence that he could rescue him without anything going wrong. He had been so wrong, so very wrong. Oreius was dead and he had been tortured to death. The dam blocking his emotions finally broke and Peter lowered his head as tears began to flow. He sniffled, blinking back tears, and caught sight of that horrid bowl again. Leaning against the chain that stretched the short distance from the center pole to wrap around his waist, Peter immediately twisted to the left and retched. He retched again as grief and horror swept over him. He had done this. Oh dear Aslan, he had caused this fate to befall one of his closest friends, the closest thing he had to a father in Narnia. The dry heaves mixed with the low sobs he was still struggling to control. It was awful. _Aslan. Aslan. Aslan. _He couldn't form a coherent prayer amidst the flood of emotions, only repeatedly call to the Lion and trust that He understood what he could not say.

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Peeking through the small slit in the side of the tent housing his royal captive, Rahzjin once again smiled. The young eagle was hunched and obviously wounded by his little token. Still struggling to pretend he was in control even as he sobbed and retched. But, he could tell that the so-called king was breaking. He had lasted longer than most of his toys, though. The Shark relished the idea for what he would do to finish breaking the will of the proud, young eagle. Once he finished, the young eagle would realize that Rahzjin was truly the Shark, the master of the land and the seas. And, there would be no more foolish talk of mercy.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, Peter just got put through the emotional and psychological ringer. Did anyone suspect who the Shark's employer, or rather, employers would be? ****Next chapter will be dealing with something...different, but I promise it won't be so dark as these last two chapters. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Those Who Wait

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Fifteen: Those Who Wait

20 Lenisgale 1007

Edmund scowled as he looked out the window, normally looking west and seeing his woods was enough for him to feel content or at least relax, but not today. No, instead, the west now represented Telmar and whatever trouble Peter had run into, not to mention Oreius, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had examined the situation every way he could think of. Stonebrook had consulted with him for the last ten hours too, ever since the Gryphon Tyr had returned carrying an injured Kat and a dispatch from Lieutenant Lonn explaining the situation. But, they couldn't get around the fact that if they went into Telmar without invitation, it would be war. And, they couldn't request to enter the country to search for their missing General and bloody High King because they couldn't let any of these friendly enemies know that Narnia was missing two vital leaders, especially not when Calormen was sending three of the Tisroc's sons as part of the envoy arriving in two days.

He scowled more deeply as his thoughts returned to the dire situation Peter had rushed into like the noble blockhead he was. Peter was in Telmar alone and without anyone he could trust at his back, without _Edmund_ at his back. He was Peter's shield. Back to back, that was how they were supposed to fight in any sort of battle, be it with steel or with words and parchment. They were brothers. He was supposed to be at his brother's side, helping him find Oreius and just plain keeping his great lummox of a brother out of worse trouble. And now… Now, he couldn't do _anything_ to help either one of them. He uttered a low oath and slammed his fist against the window, making the glass rattle in its frame.

"King Edmund?"

He twisted to see a very familiar Beech Nymph standing just inside the room, "Thalia, I… Is there something I can do for you, Lady Thalia?"

Thalia shook her head slightly, but there was a concern in her light green eyes that was surprisingly directed at him and not out the window, to the west, to Peter. "Are you all right, My Lord? Your sisters bade me to remind you that you must take care not to stress your knee or else you shall be forced to bed rest again." She paused, probably waiting for him to answer, but he wasn't nearly calm enough to keep a civil tongue as a lady's presence warranted. When he didn't speak, she crossed the span of the room to stand beside him before she continued, "You are afraid for Peter and for General Oreius. So am I. But, I am also reminded of what you said to me when you sought to ensure that I would not wound Peter's heart. You are Peter's shield, that is your role and you fulfill it to such a degree that I know Peter shall always be well looked after with you at his back, which is why this is so difficult for you."

He stared at her for a long moment, struggling not to snap at her just because he was in a foul mood. But, without snapping at her or ordering her to go away, he found he couldn't think of a single word to say and so he remained silent. He narrowed his eyes at her. _You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know why this is difficult. _

Thalia once again waited for him to speak but, when he narrowed his eyes at her, her gaze merely softened as she calmly continued. "It is difficult for you because he is your brother and you protect him and you are willing to do anything and everything in your power to keep him from coming to harm from foes both without and within. But, now Peter is beyond your reach and there is nothing in your power that you may do to protect him without first endangering the lives of all Narnians, a risk you would not take and a risk that Peter would never forgive no matter whether it was he or you that took that risk. And this chafes you as badly as it would chafe at Peter for your love and desire to protect is being handicapped and bound by outside considerations."

Edmund just stared at her. _You don't understand. I couldn't face Peter if I condemned Narnia to a war simply to save his hide._

"And, I know that you would find it nigh impossible to look your brother in the eyes and tell him that you allowed Narnia to be embroiled in a war that could destroy her simply in order to rescue him for he would not find it acceptable to do so." Thalia paused for a moment then continued in a softer tone, "But, I think Peter would understand and he would forgive you for choosing him over Narnia. It is more that you, Just King, would not be able to forgive yourself because such an action, such a risk would not be truly justified."

His jaw ached from the pressure of his clenched teeth, but he couldn't react. He didn't dare respond. _But, who will guard Peter's back if not me? We don't even know if Oreius is alive. Who will keep Peter from being killed since I'm not there? _

There was neither pity nor condemnation in Thalia's gaze. The only emotion detectable in her light green eyes was calm empathy as she spoke, "We do not know if Peter or General Oreius are alive. We do not know if they are together and able to help each other. But, I know who is with them both, who will protect Peter though you cannot. Aslan. He has never abandoned you or your brother or anyone who follows Him. He will not do so now. No matter how Peter's story ends, Aslan will not abandon His own. It is so very difficult to wait on Him and His will, but that is what you and I must do. He may not be a tame Lion, My Lord, but He is good and He is faithful."

She curtsied then and murmured, "I will inform the Queens that you are not stressing your knee." She left and Edmund found himself alone with his thoughts and her words still ringing in his ears.

He looked out the window again toward the dark shadows marking his woods and slammed his fist against the glass again. This was impossible. All the fear and anger and despair that had been nipping at his heels since he had learned of the situation crashed over him. He fell to his knees with a low cry. He couldn't save Peter and Oreius was most likely beyond all hope of rescue. A sob escaped and he bent over, touching his forehead to the cool marble floor, as more sobs broke free.

He wept in frustration and despair at his failure to find a way to help Peter, to bring him home without endangering their wondrous yet heavy charge that was Narnia and her people. _He may not be a tame Lion, My Lord, but He is good and He is faithful._ Tears still flowed as he fought for enough breath to call to the Great Lion, finally managing a hoarse whisper, "Aslan. Aslan, please, my brother- Peter needs You. Protect him, please, bring him home. Aslan. Aslan, please bring him home. Please just bring him home."

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"Edmund?"

Edmund opened his eyes then groaned as he sat up, rubbing his stiff neck, "Wha- What is it, Lu?"

Lucy knelt in front of him, blue eyes wide with concern, "You missed dinner and Kat's awake and- What were you doing lying on the floor, anyway?"

He shook his head slowly then rolled his shoulders, hissing at the soreness in his muscles, "Doesn't matter. Kat's awake? I better go talk to her." He tried to stand but a cramp in his left leg sent him back to floor. He grimaced as he rubbed at the cramp.

Lucy shook her head, "No, brother dear, you need to eat and then you can talk to Kat. Tuulea already arranged for food to be sent to Kat and our Gentle sister has made sure some of your favorite dishes are waiting for you." She grinned at him, "Do I need to get Susan or maybe Martil to help me carry you to bed and then bring your meal to you?"

He scowled faintly as he finished massaging the last of the cramp out of his leg. "No." He got to his feet and, aside from a slight twinge, his leg was fine. He strode from his study to his bedroom with Lucy following him, "I'll join you two as soon as I make myself presentable, Lucy."

Lucy stopped and peered at him for several moments then she threw her arms around him in a tight hug before she stepped back. "All right, I'll tell Susan. Did- That is, I hope you didn't mind that we sent Thalia to check on you."

Edmund paused then answered in a very quiet tone, "No, I didn't mind. It was actually probably the best thing you could for me. Oh and, Lu, I need you and Susan to summon everyone who's heard what happened with Peter and Oreius to come to the council chamber after I finish eating and I need to talk to you and Susan and Thalia too."

"All right." Lucy flitted out the door with the energy of a hummingbird. Edmund grimaced when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror in his bathroom. He definitely needed to make himself presentable so he wasn't red-eyed with tear tracks on his face (and just when had he smudged ink above his eyebrows…) and his hair wildly poking out in all directions. He grabbed a washcloth and just hoped that dinner wouldn't be too cold when he finished.

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Katerina grimaced as the stitches running across her left side from just above her waist to her back (that wound had been shallow enough that she didn't have stitches) pulled and pain spiked in her sprained knee in protest of her movement. Of course, she was fortunate that Peter hadn't gutted her when he fell on her. The shallow wound to her back had come from the blasted sellsword that had stepped on her knee and wrenched it. It was going to be at least three more weeks before she wouldn't be limping anymore. She collapsed more than she sat once she reached her settee (not that she would ever admit it).

A knock sounded and she bit back a groan as she eased a pillow under her knee then called, "Enter."

Edmund walked into her line of sight, "How are you, Kat?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Sore and my stitches itch."

A flicker of a smile appeared but then it vanished. He looked weary and, unless her eyes were cheated, there was a slight puffiness and redness to his eyes that smacked of spent tears. Edmund took off his crown and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving dark tufts sticking up every which way. _His valet is going to attack him with a hairbrush the moment he sees him…if Susan doesn't see him first. _"Kat… We can't go to Telmar to find Peter. There is no way around starting a war with Telmar and, most likely, Calormen to boot if we try to do anything."

His words ground to a painful halt and he was studying the carpet with an intensity that usually only showed itself if Susan called him by his full name. Katerina leaned back against the settee arm and closed her eyes, hiding her own frustration, "I know, Edmund. It's why I ordered Lonn and the others to leave Mägi and I had to reinforce my order as both knight and Princess Royal before Bast and Babur would budge an inch out of the quarters assigned to Peter. They probably wanted to sneak over the border themselves and search Peter and Oreius out, but that would have been disastrous."

Edmund's voice sounded steady but there was a slight pause, no, more of a hitch in his breathing before he replied. "You chose wisely, Kat. We shall simply have to wait and see if Peter can make it out of Telmar."

She opened her eyes and frowned at him, "And Oreius. Peter _and_ Oreius will find their way out of Telmar."

Edmund looked away and Katerina wanted to scream in frustration at his next words, "Kat, Oreius didn't leave Telmar and you know as well as I what the reports indicate to us regarding the fate of any Narnian who is caught by Telmarines and Calormenes. Enslavement as dumb beasts if the Talking Animals, but the Magical Creatures…you know they are tortured and then killed as an example to prove these Men can defeat the demons of the northern countries."

Katerina shook her head as she sat up, ignoring the sharp flares of pain that garnered her, and faced him, "I do not believe it. Oreius survived the abhomination that was Veri when he was unarmed and outnumbered. There is no reason to think these sellswords were able to kill him, though perhaps he allowed himself to be captured. Peter finds Oreius and then they will outwit the enemy and escape."

She barely caught herself before she added that Oreius did have someone to return to…her. She refused to let go of her hope. She could not let go of that hope or her guilt would grow too great and she would find a way to foolishly charge into Telmar herself. Edmund slowly shook his head, "I hope you're right, Kat, but I fear Oreius is already lost to us." He glanced at the water clock, "Alithia and Tuulea said I could only talk to you for a few minutes, so I should let you rest. Good night, Kat."

Watching him leave, Katerina barely registered her own reply, too preoccupied with the whirl of emotions she was fighting to control. No, she would not give up on Oreius. She trusted he was alive, if not safe, and that he and Peter would find each other and get out of Telmar. She tightened her tenacious grip on that hope and trust, casting her prayers to Aslan, as she levered herself to her feet with a new task in mind. Peter and Oreius were stubborn and they were survivors. They would survive this time too.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Big thank you to WillowDryad for brainstorming and pre-reading. **


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Letters

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Sixteen: Letters

_20 Lenisgale 1007_

_Oreius,_

_I have started this letter so many times only to scrap it, feeling like an absolute amadán or a lovesick ninny. It has been eleven days since you stayed behind to give Peter and me our chance at escape. The good news is we got out of Telmar and my wounds aren't so bad for you to give me that what-were-you-thinking scowl. The bad news…well, Peter's still thinking with his heart instead of his head, so naturally once he got me into Morri's care, he snuck out of Sisemaal and went to find you. Hopefully, by now you already know about your colt's foolish bravery, so I shan't bore you with further rehashing of old news._

_Kentauri, I- What I really want to say is don't you dare stop fighting them. You get Peter and then you get out of Telmar like Corin and the little Scátháin are aiming for your tail with another spear. Keep Peter from doing anything too stupid in his attempt to rescue you…or at least dig him out of the mess he quite likely has or will land in during the rescue attempt. Don't stop fighting, Oreius. I won't stop hoping and trusting. _

_Alambiel_

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_21 Lenisgale 1007_

_Oreius,_

_Odd how things can change in just a few hours. Edmund has decreed that those of us who know that you and Peter are in Telmar are to keep our silence. King Jukka already agreed to act as though you two have remained behind to aid him in an undeclared diplomatic matter, the belief is the most likely assumption will be that it is concerning the (few) signs of Fell activity along Sisemaal's borders. Word has been sent to Lonn and the rest of the escort that they are to delay arriving for an extra week and then Peter's Tigers will be keeping a low profile in order to prevent rumors from spreading. I believe Edmund's making the right choice as do the others in the know. This will keep Narnia safe and, I pray, it will keep you and Peter from having too many difficulties crossing out of Telmar. The decision has also been made that all festivities and events scheduled to occur during the visit of the "diplomats" from Calormen will proceed on schedule, including the ball for Susan's birthday next month. Don't worry, the Tisroc will have no hints that we are anything less than strong and at ease. _

_When you and Peter return you will see candles in a number of the western windows. They are to lead you home. I put a candle in my window too…and yes, I know my windows face northeast but it's the thought that counts. Now, if you would be so courteous as to come home sooner than later, the melted wax won't be such a hassle to clean. _

_Keep fighting, Oreius, and don't let Peter feel too guilty about the situation. He can't fix all the wrongs in the world, although I dare say his heart is big enough to try. And, Kentauri, don't blame yourself. You know Peter will never be able to keep out of things where someone he cares about needs help, and that includes you. All the two of you should be concentrating on is whatever you are planning to get out of Telmar._

_Alambiel_

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_22 Lenisgale 1007_

_Oreius,_

_The Calormene envoy arrived today, complete with three of the Tisroc's sons. Yes, I still suspect they and probably most if not all of the envoy are really here to suss out any potential weaknesses the Tisroc could exploit. However, you don't have to worry about me causing a diplomatic incident (at least not today) because Tuulea and Alithia have put me on bed rest. Before you start worrying, it's nothing too serious just my wrenched knee and I had a powerful disagreement when I got up this morn…the floor won. You should have seen the look Tuulea gave me when I told her that…amused she was not and I felt like a naughty child who just got caught after tumbling very old books to the floor during a less than successful attempt to climb the shelves. Don't ask me about that because I refuse to confirm or deny if that was a real experience of mine. _

_Anyway, bed rest means I don't have to interact with the Tisroc's sons, though my understanding is he sent one of the older princes, a Zordad the Victorious (our information says he is merely victorious at being a braggart), and then two of the younger middle princes, Arash and Siavash, who are around Edmund and Lucy's ages (future trouble, perhaps). Zordad is in his thirties but he's probably aiming to woo Susan. I hope she stabs him (knife or fork, doesn't matter so long as she stabs him). And, yes, I know such sentiments are why I am not permitted to treat with any Calormene ambassador. Doesn't matter because I don't want to treat with them anyway. _

_However, we did receive a sobering report from King Jukka today. Sisemaalian border guard has noticed that there is a substantial increase in Telmarine soldiers patrolling the Telmarine/Sisemaalian border. Officially, it is because they are hunting for an aggressive group of bandits who'd been terrorizing travelers, hunting groups, and small farms. Unofficially, we don't know but we suspect these men were sent to the border after you stayed behind in hopes of capturing a Narnian rescue attempt. But, is that it? Or are they on the border trying to recapture you? I would be hoping for that possibility but then you and Peter would be headed into a trap. Be careful, Oreius, no matter the situation be careful with your life as well as Peter's, don't charge into a trap. Of course, it's been thirteen days so perhaps they will give up on trying to catch a Narnian rescue, especially if they're looking for troops, soon and withdraw or at least lessen their presence so you won't have as much of a hassle getting across the border. Take care of yourself and of Peter, Oreius. The candles still burn._

_Alambiel_

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_23 Lenisgale 1007_

_Oreius,_

_I had better not hear anything from you about my getting into trouble after you get home. Because, honestly, I think you have managed to trump all the incidents revolving solely around me and any of the Four. Since I have never been caught in a hostile country without a rescue option with the High King. Veri doesn't count because only Veri the underground city was hostile and we were to be rescued (we just rescued ourselves before our rescuers got there). I will be happy to debate the matter with you once you return._

_Nothing new to report for the goings on here. My knee and I aren't on speaking terms, so I'm still on bed rest. And, I'm writing you so I don't go stir-crazy with the need to itch at my stitches. I miss your replies, Oreius. They make me laugh or just smile and then I get the challenge of answering you in a way that will provoke, stump, or amuse you. I hope you can see the stars tonight and I hope you know that those of us here are waiting faithfully for you and Peter to return. The candles are still burning. _

_Alambiel_

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_25 Lenisgale 1007_

_Oreius,_

_I… I didn't write a letter for you yesterday. It was suddenly too hard to find the words because the ones I want to speak are so much deeper than what I usually write or say. I must have started and thrown away twenty attempts yesterday and this is my twenty-fourth attempt now. Our friends may not know that we are courting but they know we are close enough that they feel obligated to try and get me to accept that you are not coming back, that even if Peter comes back, you won't. I let them speak their piece and I let them think they are slowly making sense, but I refuse to believe it. I will not let go of hope. You would not let go of hope for me were our situations reversed and I'll not do anything less. I am tenacious and I will hold on to hope and faith for as long as it takes and I will make sure there are candles burning in the windows even if it takes months or years for you two to come home. _

_I want to tell you that I love you. I love you, Oreius, and I am so very grateful that you were willing to wait for me to be ready before you started pursuing me. Right now, I dare to say that if you were asking me about the Sweetheart's Day ball, I would tell you yes and then I would kiss you without care for our audience. I am sorry I've not been brave enough to face the well-meaning crowd in regards to our relationship. I feel like I have cheated you out of something important. I know you said it was my call and that when you get back, I may not want to make an announcement right away, but I promise you that I do want to make that announcement. As for the when, well, as promised we will discuss that after you come home._

_Oreius, don't forget that you have me, that I will wait for your return. There is a story in Spare Oom about a warrior who took ten years to return home to his wife who waited faithfully all those years. His name was Odysseus, but you are certainly the more honorable warrior. While I certainly hope that you don't take ten years (it would be hard to pass that off as a consulting job), you will find me guarding my heart until you return. If the assorted suitors couldn't catch my eye before, well, they've no chance now that I've accepted you as my suitor. _

_Ah, it's not easy for me to capture these emotions and everything else that is weighing on my heart, especially since I don't want to sound like a romantic sap. But, I want to thank you for teaching me to open my heart, first as my friend and confidant, and second as my suitor. Considering you've known about my previous cynical view about romance and true love, I must say you're courageous. Thank you for helping me to lower my walls, for proving to me that I didn't have to keep everyone away in order to stay safe. Of course, I repaid that by being a bit of a nutcase but c'est la vie. I suppose what I am trying to say is thank you for giving me a chance back when you first found me (and yes, I was very prepared to beat you with that stick). Without you doing so, well, who knows if I ever would have been able to come to grasp with the return of long-buried memories and learning who I was. Thank you for being my shield for these last six years. I am confident you will continue to be my shield for years to come._

_I love you, my Kentauri. May Aslan bring you and Peter home soon._

_Always yours,_

_Alambiel_

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Sealed letter in hand, Katerina carefully slid off the bed and hobbled out of her bedroom. These letters she had been writing were more for her than for Oreius. She couldn't send them to him right now and she wasn't sure if she would show them to him immediately upon his return to Cair Paravel. Maybe after more time passed and after their relationship wasn't a secret anymore, she would let Oreius read them. But, until he returned, she would keep writing and then storing the letters away.

Hobbling into her study, Katerina winced as her stitches tugged ominously when she reached up to slide open the hatch in the wall that hid her secret compartment. Lowering her left arm, she carefully opened the actual secret compartment. Her royal seal was propping up the growing row of letters. Slipping the latest letter inside then closing the compartment and the hatch, Katerina carefully replaced the books that hid the hatch from easy detection. Some things she didn't want just anyone to be able to stumble upon and her private thoughts and letters to Oreius were among them. Lighting the candle in her study window, she whispered, "Bring them home, Aslan."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, the next chapter will go back to the situation in Telmar. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Shark's Game Part One

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Seventeen: Shark's Game, Part One

23 Lenisgale 1007

Hoarse cries echoed through the night, shattering the stillness and causing the horses to prance nervously as they tossed their heads and whinnied. The Telmarines laughed and jeered at the screams being ripped from the Narnian's throat. One of the men, the captain of Lord Tuanka's guard, took a deep swig of the beer being passed around then spat on the ground, "That is what the Narnians claim is their king above all kings? Ha, listen to him! He wails like a frightened infant."

Raucous laughter filled the air, almost loud enough to drown out the screams of the Shark's captive, as the Telmarines coarsely described what they thought the rest of the royal family would sound like if they were here. One of the Shark's men lifted his eye patch, revealing the empty eye socket as the campfire threw eerie shadows across his scarred face, "Lost my eye to one of them Narnian freaks. But, I tell you them Sea Nymphs put up a good fight e'en after we got them in the ship's hold. Strangely colored with that blue hair an' skin but they were a fair prize." His leer made the other Telmarines laugh all the louder as they raced to speculate on what kind of fight the two so-called queens would put up before they too were broken.

There was a lull in conversation when the screams of the purported high king of Narnia abruptly rose in volume and intensity. Nevertheless, the men merely exchanged amused looks then they poured the beer liberally into their cups and toasted the superiority of Telmarine might and the hawk god, Anzu. An older man emerged from the shadows, carrying a bucket and ladle, and he snatched a proffered cup and guzzled the beer. Belching, he threw the empty cup back at the man who'd offered it before he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The man sneered as he carried the bucket and ladle closer to the picket line, "Do you hear how the weakling screams and begs? And we haven't even broken his back yet."

The Centaur who had been silently fuming as he listened to the filth the Telmarines were spouting did not respond to the man's taunts. He couldn't risk endangering his colt further by reacting as he wanted, though his hands itched to strangle some of these men, the Shark in particular. The Telmarine lifted the ladle from the bucket then he flung the water into Oreius' face, snarling, "Drink that, freak! Drink that and then you can drink some of the poison the Shark is planning to give to the weakling. See if you survive that!"

Oreius didn't react other than to shift his hooves, which caused the shackles binding him to clink together noisily. The horses that were picketed but a scant yard away pranced and whinnied in alarm as the man cursed then threw the ladle at the nearest horse, striking its flank and frightening the beast into rearing and pawing at the air as it tried to escape. Two of the men rushed to grab his arms, "Inigowe! The Shark will harpoon your head if he finds you damaging the horses." Inigowe cursed louder but wasn't strong enough to break away from the younger men. The two wrestled him back until he was seated on the other side of the campfire. He glared at Oreius as he thrashed, trying to rise from his seat. But, still the men held him in place not letting go until they had finally distracted Inigowe by thrusting a large cup of beer into his hand.

More anguished cries pierced the night air and Oreius fought not to show the horror and fear that had been growing inside his heart since he first heard his colt's screams five nights ago, not long after the two viperous Lords of the Council arrived in the Shark's camp. What were they doing to make him cry out in such torment? Much as he wish he knew what was happening to Peter, he also dreaded learning what it was he had failed to protect Peter from. However, what was worse than the screams was the silence that would follow, especially when it stretched on for so long that Oreius feared this Shark had killed Peter.

The Shark had had him released from the nets not long after Peter had been dragged away to a tent in the middle of the camp and moved to the far picket line where he was shackled. So now, he was able to stand and even move a few paces but he could no longer even glimpse the tent where Peter had been taken. Moreover, he didn't dare to move too much lest the Telmarines who were watching him report that he was attempting to escape and Peter would suffer for it. But, from what the men said, the Shark was starving Peter, weakening him. Oreius remembered the times he had reluctantly assigned the Kings to take part in a fast for a week, sometimes two, in order to help them learn their limits when surviving on little to no food and only water. They had learned how to adapt but he had been hesitant to assign the task at all considering how much food his colts seemed to need on a daily basis though they were so small. Of course, even when they hadn't missed any meals, they would fall on their next meal as though they had been denied it for weeks. Still, he was thankful that he had given those tasks for the Shark would not find it easy to break the High King simply by denying him food.

The screams subsided then and Oreius tensed. _Aslan, protect Your chosen. Help me find a way to free us or, if that is not possible, at least free Peter before he has been in enemy hands too long. Please, Great Lion, continue to hold us between Thy paws. Guard us against our enemies' schemes and end this Shark's games._

"The young eagle is not so proud now, Centaur. Do you know how he begs for death? Can you hear the plea for release in his cries? He is weak. No wonder one of the Lords of the Council thought you were the real power and so purchased my skills to bring you to them."

Oreius didn't speak, but allowed his fury to show in his eyes as he met the Shark's gaze. The Shark watched him with cold satisfaction. "So, you do care about the pathetic young eagle. Are you the one who planted these weak ideas of mercy in his mind?"

Flicking his tail, Oreius raised an eyebrow, "If the idea of mercy is so weak, why do you concern yourself with where he acquired them?"

The Shark bared his teeth, "I merely wonder if all Narnia is infected by these ideas, for it makes you weak and all the easier for me to devour. And, I am in the midst of devouring the one who is supposed to be your king. But, do not fear, I will not finish devouring him until after I have ripped the last of his foolish ideas about mercy to shreds and he is utterly broken like an eagle whose wings have been stripped of all feathers. And I will be sure to allow you to witness his execution, Centaur."

Rage pounded through Oreius' veins and he clenched his fists, wishing he could solve the matter by ending the Shark's miserable existence here and now. Not yet though, not yet. Oreius willed his expression to remain impassive as he quietly countered, "The belief in mercy shores up faith and faith shores up strength even in the face of death. Mercy is strong and only a fool will underestimate its power."

The Shark's expression didn't change as he studied him, "Oh yes, you definitely helped to plant those foolish ideas. How does it feel, Centaur, to know that your _lessons _are what weakened the young eagle, what made him vulnerable to my bite? Do you feel guilt? Or is it sorrow? What does it feel like? For I have never understood what those weak emotions are supposed to feel like, but it seems that I have not missed very much. In fact, I think it has made me far stronger than your pitiful excuse for a king or even you."

He left before Oreius could retort, disappearing back toward the middle of the camp with his cape snapping out behind him as a gust of wind caught it. Oreius shook his head, though he had dealt with and fought against evil all his life, still he could not understand how easily and readily they believed their own lies. The screams had not resumed and he prayed that was because Peter was resting, regaining some of his strength, for he would need to conserve as much energy as possible if there was to be hope of an escape.

The faint cry of an eagle reached him and Oreius looked up. He did not see the bird of prey's outline against the moon, but he did see the stars. They shone brightly, each a beacon of hope that brought comfort. Their dance was somewhat different here than in Narnia, but not so much that he was unable to read it. _Be steadfast; keep your courage and your faith. Wait on Him. _It seemed strangely fitting to him that the message was the same as the stars' last message before the White Witch cast her spell of winter and the stars were silent for one hundred years. Oreius watched the stars as he prayed for the opportunity to see Peter and to smuggle him food if the Shark continued to starve the colt. He would not allow his colt to perish here as a part of a Fell game, not if there was anything he could do to stop it.

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Rahzjin sliced a piece of apple off then raised the blade to his mouth, slowly pushing the slice across the blade until it entered his mouth. He chewed loudly as he watched the Lords of the Council's faces. Once again, he dealt them an insult by sitting in the only chair in his tent and oh how he enjoyed watching them squirm with the urge to berate him but not daring to complain in front of the other for fear that it would make whoever spoke first look the weaker of the two. Apparently, they still labored in ignorance that they were both weak in his eyes. Of course, they still imagined that he owed his loyalty to one or the other, which made it all the more satisfying when they played at dominance. The only time he had enjoyed this game of dominance so much was when he had been in one of the pleasure houses frequented by the Tarkaans and he had taken the dancing girl who had been the favorite of one of the Tisroc's spawn.

He pushed another slice into his mouth, chewing as he spoke, "Is there something you wish to say, my lords? Some comment on your purchases?"

Lord Tuanka stared at him, fingers stroking from his moustache to his well-trimmed beard, before he lowered his lids, making it difficult to read his eyes. However, such precautions did not work on the Shark though he decided it would be entertaining to continue to allow Tuanka to believe otherwise. The man's body language spoke of tension, anger and no little impatience. "What are you doing to the king of Narnia? I paid you an obscene amount of silver to obtain him alive and since you failed to bring me the Narnian sorceress, I should think you would adhere closely to the rest of our agreement. An agreement, which involved the king being still sane enough for me to ransom him to his kingdom at the price of his sisters' hands in a marriage alliance."

Kazimierz sneered at the other Lord of the Council, "Why would the Narnians want the boy back? They are a country populated by unnatural beasts and other such freaks. The only humans in that country are those necessary for negotiating with the civilized nations. The boy is a puppet and we all saw how the woman styled as the Princess Royal catered to the beast's needs. The Centaur is the real power in Narnia. 'General' they called him, ha! By Anzu, he is probably the general and the de facto leader of the country."

The Shark watched the two Lords as they postured, for the moment content to allow this part of the game to continue. He pushed another apple slice into his mouth and chewed noisily. Tuanka glared down at the shorter man, "That was probably the Narnians' plot all along. Make those, such as you, who only possess the one-sided vision of a halibut think that the unnatural beast is the one with the power so you would then allow the real key to power to escape."

Kazimierz's sneer didn't change as he used his burlier build (compliments of long years fighting in various border skirmishes) to shove Tuanka, who was tall but slender by comparison, back several paces. "And yet you who would attempt to insult the purity of my bloodline by claiming my mother was not of Telmarine stock desires to keep this boy only until you could ransom an exchange for his sisters. You are the fool, Tuanka, not I. Not Kazimierz, but you! When you reveal to the Narnians who you think you have captured, they will attack without fear and bring the beasts and other unnatural abominations to Telmar because the cost will not be too high for them. Or, on the small chance the Narnians do not attack Telmar right away (if they have not already secretly amassed their army which is said to number in the thousands if not tens of thousands), we will have Calormen and that accursed Tisroc (may Anzu pluck the years from his breath) clamoring to steal this so-called prize of yours. What's more is that great carrion bird will use the excuse to subject Telmar as a colony to Calormen…again." Kazimierz shoved Tuanka once more and spittle flew as he hissed, "You would bring down everything our grandfathers and fathers bled for by allowing Telmar to either be invaded by the Narnians or be reclaimed as a Calormene colony."

Tuanka's hand darted for the ornate dagger at his hip as his face mottled with anger. The Shark contemplated allowing the blood to be spilt; it would sweeten his appetite, but no. He still had more to play in this game and the Lords of the Council's blood would be sweet but too premature to keep from interfering with the rest of his game. He stabbed his dagger into the table, gouging a deep hole into the oak surface, at the same time he tossed the remnants of his apple at the lords' feet. They both turned, still ready to draw blood. He bared his teeth at them, "As interesting as this conversation was becoming, my lords, I thought you were concerned about what I have been doing to the ones I acquired for you. Of course, if that is no longer the case, then I shall finish having my fun with them and make them disappear. Do you think Jukka will be able to keep his little alliance with the Narnians if the tortured and mutilated bodies of the so-called High King and this Centaur were found inside Mägi?"

Tuanka straightened his cloak as he eyed the Shark warily, "And just what _have _you been doing to the High King of Narnia to make him scream so for these past five nights?"

The Shark bared his teeth as he wrenched his dagger free of the table and ran a finger down the flat of the blade, "Many things, my lord Tuanka, so very many things. However, perhaps the most potent thing I have done is to convince the young eagle that he is alone and that he is responsible for the Centaur's death. For some reason, this has troubled him fiercely."

Tuanka stared at him for a long moment, but it was not he who broke the silence. Kazimierz straightened in outrage and sputtered, "You killed the stallion! That horse came from the Tisroc's stables and I paid twice his weight in silver and gold to acquire him! I had just sent the horse to be put in with the broodmares. However, now it seems I shall learn that my prize horse vanished into the night before ever reaching the broodmares. Rahzjin, you go too far! That horse was chosen to be the stud for my new breed of chargers and now I have no stud and no foals by him to recoup the loss!"

The Shark barely shrugged his shoulders, "Your loss is no concern of mine. Consider it one of the hazards of your demanded result. After all, the stud happened to share the same markings and coloring as the Centaur, but since I could not kill the Centaur (as you yourself instructed when you delivered the second half of my fee), the stud had to take his place. If you want recompense for your devoured stud, then you should make your complaint to Tuanka for he is the one who demanded I break the High King and in order to fulfill his demand I had to kill your stud."

The Lords of the Council glared at him then they turned on each other, shouting angrily as they stormed from his tent. Rahzjin bared his teeth in satisfaction. The lords' squabbling like spoiled children over a broken toy would give him plenty of time to set the next phases of the game into motion. His night had already proved to be quite productive but there was one last thing he wished to do…

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Leaving his tent, the Shark looped around the camp, leaving his favorite destination for last this time. He paused to watch as the men belonging to Tuanka and Kazimierz broke fellowship and warily eyed each other for the first hostile move. Fools. His own men kept watch over prisoner and guest alike for they knew what he would do to them if they allowed his game to be interrupted by petty squabbles between the guards of opposing lords.

The Centaur was shifting restlessly in his shackles but since Rahzjin had the High King out of reach and out of sight, he knew that the beast would do nothing just as he had done nothing for the past eight days. After making him witness the death of the one he claimed was his king, the Shark would release the Centaur and then hunt him down proper. Finally, Rahzjin turned to the center of the camp where the so-called king was being held in the tent just a few yards away from the cook's tent. He had timed it perfectly, so he should be able to hear… A low cry started then grew in frequency and volume until it was a cry of absolute anguish. He stopped and peeked through the slit in the side of the tent, the beginning of a smile appearing on his thin lips as he watched the formerly insolent and headstrong young eagle writher on the ground as his face screwed in pain while tears leaked out from beneath his eyelids and he cried out in agony. Even when he finally stepped back to return to his own tent, the Shark grinned as he listened to the hoarse screams coming from within the tent. The young eagle screamed not in defiance but in defeat...and it was delicious.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, the angst-ridden part of the story has resumed and we are just over halfway through the story. Any theories as to what's happening to Peter? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Shark's Game Part Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Extra Chapter Warning: High T for this chapter. This chapter features a long, very intense nightmare sequence that may be disconcerting to some readers. Sensitive readers ye be warned.

Chapter Eighteen: Shark's Game, Part Two

_Peter stood in the midst of his bedroom in Cair Paravel. He smiled as he touched the soft comforter and there, hanging on the wall next to his mirror, was the slightly lumpy cross-stitch depicting Aslan overlooking Peter as he knelt to be knighted that Lucy had given him for his fourteenth birthday. He looked around still grinning as he touched the blue steel dagger Edmund had crafted and given to him. Then there was one of the thick socks that Susan knitted for him. He wondered if its mate had a hole worn through the sole…it was very possible. His grin softened when he spotted the token Thalia had given him right before he left for Telmar, it was just a ribbon albeit beautifully embroidered with a rampant lion above a beech tree whose leaves were forming the outline of a dancing Nymph, but he valued it. Moreover, since he had it with him when he left for Telmar, there was only one way it could be here. He was home. Home! _

_He looked around but there was no sign of his valet or his siblings, which was odd since it wasn't unusual for him to find his siblings sprawled around and across him when he woke after newly returning from a long journey. Most especially if it had turned unexpectedly perilous. But maybe… Peter checked the small calendar and grinned. Of course, it was Susan's birthday, which meant they were probably all at breakfast or, rather, lunch. A search of his wardrobe revealed the present he had hidden there with only Edmund and Silvo knowing it was to be delivered to Susan before the actual party. He grinned as he tucked the package under his arm and jogged out of his quarters. It seemed spring was in full control in Cair Paravel since he could hear the singing birds and Birds and the every window was uncovered with the sun shining through the eastern-facing ones. The patches of sunlight were pleasantly warm on his skin whenever he walked through them. Ah, it was good to feel the sun on his face after being so cold, damp, and wet in Telmar. _

_Laughter and musicians playing sprightly dancing tunes reached his ears as he neared the eastern balcony. Peter smiled as he caught a whiff of the tantalizing smell of cooking meat. It smelled like a roast. His stomach growled and he picked up his pace. "Edmund. Lucy. Susan. I hope that smell is what we're having for lunch because I'm famished!" He turned the corner and opened the balcony doors just as the breeze shifted and the scent of the sea grew stronger until it briefly overwhelmed the scent of cooking meat. "Su, I didn't forget your birthday. In fact, I-"_

_The balcony was empty. Peter furrowed his brow. He had been certain his siblings were out here. He set Susan's present on the table and looked around. He couldn't hear the laughter or the musicians playing anymore, but he could still smell cooking meat. Odd. _

_"Peter! Hurry up, Peter!"_

_"Lucy?" He ran back into the corridor, searching for his little sister, but she was nowhere in sight. "Lu? Lucy, where are you? Edmund? Susan?"_

_Another whispering echo, "Peter!"_

_His brow furrowed further, "Thalia?" An uneasy feeling settled over him and he reached for Rhindon, but his hand patted his hip and found naught but cloth. Rhindon was probably in the armory. He glanced around but there were no visible guards. "Bast? Babur?" His Tigers did not appear… He licked his lips as the feeling of unease grew, settling in his stomach like an icy block. Maybe, maybe Bast and Babur were down at the barracks or they had the day off. He usually gave them the day after he would return from trips so they could recoup and visit with their friends and family. _

_He would go find his siblings in the Great Hall and then he would see what Oreius knew about his Tigers' whereabouts. Peter patted his hip again, fingers itching for the comfort of wrapping around Rhindon's cool hilt. He felt naked without the blade. It was not a feeling he associated with Cair Paravel. This was his home and one of the few places where he could take off his sword and walk freely, without feeling naked…vulnerable. _

_The scent of cooking meat grew stronger as Peter cautiously moved toward the doors of the Great Hall, but there was something different. It didn't smell as good. It was starting to smell…burned. But what- Peter pulled open the doors and gasped. A wooden platform had been built in the center of the Great hall. There was wood and a stake in the middle of the platform…and tied to the stake was Kat. She looked at him, eyes wide with desperation and fear, "Why? Why did you let them do this?"_

_He shook his head, "What? Who's doing this?" _

_"Why did you betray us? Look! Look at what you have brought down on us who you were charged to protect!"_

_Peter turned and staggered back a step in horror. The burning smell was Narnians, some tied to stakes, others being turned on a spit, and still others were slaughtered and waiting their turn on the spit. He gagged when he realized there was a Tiger on one of the spits and lying on the floor in a bloody, mutilated mess was Babur. His gaze flew back to the Tiger on the spit and he knew, he just knew that it was fierce and brave Bast. "No."_

_"My King, Peter, my colt." Peter looked around and finally spotted Oreius' mangled body not far from the platform Kat was tied to. The Centaur was missing strips of skin and his hooves were…were gone. He could hardly believe Oreius was still alive as blood bubbled past the General's lips when he gasped, "Save all you can. Save them."_

_"Where? Oreius! Where are they?" But there was no answer as death clouded the Centaur's eyes. Peter rushed for the platform, "Kat! Where is my family?" He had just reached the platform when a torch sailed from behind him and lit the wood, which ignited with the fury of a forest fire. "No! Kat!" He tried to climb up but the heat forced him back. There was nothing he could do for her. He had to find his family. Kat's screams of pain and anguish followed him as he turned and raced out of the Great Hall._

_A soft whisper caught his attention, "Peter! Help! Hurry, Peter!"_

_"Lu!" Dread formed a lump in his throat as he started running. Where was it coming from? One of the conservatories? The gardens? The stables? WHERE WAS SHE? "Lucy! Lucy, it's Peter. Say something! Tell me where you are! Lucy!" _

_"Peter! Help!"_

_He spun around at the top of the stairs leading to the courtyard, eyes searching but still he could not see her or Susan or Edmund. "LUCY! Lucy, where are you?" The whisper came again and this time it sounded like it was coming from the beach. Lucy loved the beach. She had found a series of caves that Oreius and Kat had approved of for a safe position to fall back in times of trouble. "Lucy! I'm coming, Lucy, I promise!" _

_It seemed to take hours before he reached the beach. He raced past the trampled remnants of a picnic. "Lucy!" She had to be here. Somewhere… His heart nearly stopped when he noticed a slim form among the driftwood. "Noooo! No! Lucy!" _

_Leaping over the driftwood littered across this section of the beach, Peter rushed for the slim figure. Sodden red skirts, the flash of silver half-buried in the sand and seaweed- No, oh Aslan, no! A wordless scream of fury and despair ripped from his throat as he reached her and dropped to his knees, uncaring of the way the surf soaked his leggings and pooled in his boots. "Lucy! No. No, Lucy." He rolled her over, her blue eyes were dull and her face was frozen in a shocked expression. Her water-soaked hair was plastered against her skin, which had lost its vibrancy and its warmth. Her skin was so cold… So cold… _

_There was a thick strand of seaweed wrapped tightly around her throat, forever silencing the sweet little mouth that had always had a merry laugh or a cheerful song. No, his little Lucy, his little Lucy- Peter screamed in grief as tears flowed unchecked while he cradled Lucy's unnaturally still body. She was the dancer in the family, always urging, pulling or outright dragging her siblings into joining the dances. She was just fifteen. Still a baby. Still a- He let out another scream as he rocked his baby sister's lifeless body. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Lu, oh I'm so sorry!"_

_Still weeping, he finally staggered to his feet, lifting Lucy's b- Lifting Lucy as he did so. Gasping for breath through his tears, Peter carried his sweet baby sister away from the surf and the driftwood. She deserved a better resting place until he could come back for her. He laid her down on a low knoll on the beach and set the seashells she was always collecting in a circle around her. He smoothed back her wet hair and folded her hands over her waist, pausing only to cut away the seaweed from around her neck. If he ignored the blue tinge of her lips and the bruising around her throat, she looked like she was sleeping. He kissed her cold forehead, "I'll be back for you, Lu. I will, I promise." He turned and trudged up the beach, away from his too-still baby sister._

_Reentering Cair Paravel, Peter stared in horror as he suddenly came upon more slaughtered and burned Narnians. Had he missed their presence earlier? How…how could he have missed this? Families huddled together, children's small bodies stretched between their parents. But what was worse was the sight of the parents holding their hands out frozen in death as they tried to reach their little ones. No, no, no. How had this happened? _

_Oreius had told him he need to save all he can, but there none where who he could still help. He needed his sword. And then he needed to find the ones he could help. Peter ran into the armory, trying not to be snagged by the accusing stares of the dead at the same time he did his best not to step on them. He wouldn't disgrace them by trampling them underfoot. The armory was smoking, all of Oreius' precise order now in shambles with many broken weapons littered across the floor. Peter's eyes widened and for a moment all he could think of was Oreius' fury when he discovered the perpetrators behind this wanton destruction but then he remembered with painful clarity that the Centaur General was no longer capable of outpouring his wrath and defending his kingdom, his people, his home. _

_Digging through the still-smoking wreckage, Peter winced as a hot shard from what had been a sword burned the side of his palm. But, it was the palm of his left hand and it wasn't so severe as to impair his ability to fight. He needed to find Rhindon. Where was his sword? He knew he was in the right part of the armory to find his weapons. He found his gloves and tugged them on, hissing softly when the action put pressure on his burn, but the pain was good. It told him he was alive. _

_It seemed he had been rummaging through the debris covering the interior of the armory for hours, maybe even days. But, he finally knocked his gloved fingers against something solid that wasn't broken off. Frantic digging uncovered his shield… No, this was a little too small to be his shield and the enarmes were tightened too slim for him to get his arm through being built for a lean, wiry frame. It had to be Edmund's but neither Shafhelm nor Rhindon were here. He prayed that was because Edmund, his clever, sneaky little brother, had absconded with them to use in his defense. _

_Snatching up one of the few unbroken blades left in the armory, although its balance wasn't as perfect as Rhindon's, Peter ran out of the shell of the room following the faint cry he could hear. It sounded like Susan. He raced into the southern gardens, slowing slightly as he listened for the sound of that cry again, wanting it to be his other sister at the same time he feared it was Susan. _

_"Peter. Peter, please help me. Don't let them hurt me. PEEETER!"_

_He burst into one of the lower gardens just as a Fell beast, one that he could never name or even describe well enough to do its foul horror justice, leapt upon a prone body. "NO!" The creature snarled an ugly curse then chittered as it spun to face him. There was no spark of goodness in its eyes, only the same malevolent cunning and cruel intelligence that he had once seen glittering in the eyes of its fallen false queen, Jadis. The Fell creature spat at him and he dodged and rolled to the side, neatly avoiding the creature's attack. As he shifted his position, he could see the black acidic goo that was eating through the trunk of a grand old oak tree. Peter straightened just as the Fell creature turned back to Susan. No! The a shout of fury, Peter charged the creature with his sword at the ready and aiming for the thin line of pink tissue he could see peeking out just under the creature's head. His sword sliced into the soft pink flesh and the Fell creature let out a shriek that made Peter's ears ring painfully before it jerked away from him and from Susan, ripping the sword out of Peter's hands. The creature tossed its horrible malformed head, still shrieking, while Peter could only cover his ears and watch as the Fell beast reached back and snapped off the sword midway down its blade before it finally slammed to the ground then dissolved into a pool of black acidic goo. _

_"Peter…"_

_The call that was more of a whimper than a whisper caught and held Peter's attention. "Susan." He lurched to his feet, nearly falling twice as he hurried back to Susan's side and collapsed next to her. Dismay filled him as he surveyed her battered condition. He shrugged out of his unlaced jerkin and covered her torso with it then carefully pulled down her skirts so they covered her legs all the way to her feet, being careful not to say a single word about how she was missing one of her delicately embroidered slippers. Her long dark hair had been butchered, long hanks missing so it barely reached past her jaw; while her face was so swollen and bruised he could barely see her ivory complexion. Peter swallowed hard as he realized the slender hand grasping at his sleeve was missing two fingers and the reason Susan was only staring at him with one eye was because the other was…gone. His poor little sister. How could he not have reached her soon enough to prevent this from happening? How?_

_"Peter?"_

_He started then smoothed back her hair, being careful not to press too hard for fear of hurting her, "I'm here, Su. I'm here, it's me, Peter. I'll get Lu- I'll get the cordial and we'll fix you up right as rain, I promise I will."_

_Her one eye filled with tears as her bloodied lips twitched, "Comb your hair, Peter." She gasped, a horrid rattling sound that bespoke of broken ribs and punctured lungs, and then fear entered her eye as she tried to clutch his sleeve. "Looking for you…they wanted me to tell where you were, but I didn't. I didn't, not even when they-" She broke off gasping and coughing up blood._

_Peter hurried to soothe her as he stroked her hair, "Shh. Shhh, Su, I know you did. You were so brave, my fiercely gentle sister, so brave. I'm proud of you, Su, really I am and thank you. For everything you've done to take care of me and Edmund and Lucy, thank you. I couldn't have done all this, be a king and take care of the family without your help."_

_She smiled and its peacefulness looked out of place in the midst of the nightmarish scene, "Well done, Peter. Now comb your hair. Have to look presentable."_

_A little sigh escaped her and Peter shook from the force of his silent sobs as she went limp. "I'm sorry, Su, I'm sorry I didn't protect you from this. I'm sorry." There was no place for him to move her, so he was forced to leave her there with only his jerkin giving her dignity and the cheery yellow daffodils he had placed between her folded hands and in a circle around her. He had no sword, but he did not care. All he wanted was to find his brother and anyone else who was still alive; who he could still save… But, he would never forgive himself for not being there for his girls._

_Peter jogged deeper into the gardens, grieving at the dead Narnians he passed. So many babies were out here, it had to have been a surprise attack. One timed with the celebration of Susan's birthday, maybe? Or was it timed with his return… Oh Aslan, Susan had said they were looking for him…this was his fault. Someone had been looking for him and was now punishing his family and everyone in Cair Paravel because they could not find him. _

_"Peter? Peter, is it you?"_

_He spun around, searching the shadows of the garden for the source of that familiar voice. "Peter, it's you. Oh, Peter!"_

_A Nymph with nut-brown hair threw her arms around his neck and he staggered back a step before hugging her close. "Thalia! Thalia, you're here. You're alive." He set her down and lightly skimmed her dirty, tear-stained face, hardly believing that she was alive after finding his sisters… Peter cupped Thalia's chin and forced a smile to reassure her, "Are you hurt, Flower?"_

_She shook her head, "No. No, they missed me, but they have taken so many others. My mother and my little sister, Vedis, your sister, Queen Susan, and… So many saplings, Peter. I keep finding helpless little saplings but it's too late for them. Too late-" She covered her face with trembling hands, but then with that admirable strength which hid under her shy and unassuming persona, Thalia's shoulders straightened and she took a deep breath then lowered her hands. Tears still lurked in her eyes but her light green gaze was more determined than anything else. "They have taken your brother, Peter."_

_Peter grabbed her arms tightly, "Where? Where have they taken him, Thalia?"_

_Thalia squeaked a little and Peter immediately eased his grip on her arms, but she cut him off before he could apologize. "No, it's all right, I understand that was an accident. They said something about taking him into the center of the maze and…questioning him."_

_"Who's they? Thalia, did you recognize them?"_

_She shook her head, "No, I'm sorry, Peter. They are wearing hooded capes but their accents…the way they speak is not Narnian."_

_"Are you certain?" Peter grabbed her shoulders, but took care to keep his grip light so he wouldn't bruise her. Who could have been brazen enough to attack Cair Paravel? Why were they looking for him? And, most importantly, could he find them before they tortured and killed Edmund with their so-called questions?_

_Thalia nodded, "I'm certain. I don't know for sure where they're from, but they were not Narnian. But they aren't Calormene either. They didn't mention the poets."_

_Peter nodded, "All right, thank you, Thalia. Wait here-"_

_"No. I'm going with you."_

_Peter shook his head, "Thalia, you're not trained in warfare."_

_Thalia frowned at him, determination written across her face, "I will not let you go alone. There is safety in numbers."_

_Peter frowned but when he opened his mouth to argue, the words wouldn't come. He was truly worried that if he left her by herself, she would meet some terrible fate. No, it was better if she came with him, at least then he would be able to protect her. With a sigh, he took her hand and, together, they walked toward the maze._

_They kept a cautious and steady pace once they entered the maze. Peter thanked Aslan that Thalia had a sensible head on her shoulders since they had twice stumbled upon a pile of dead Narnians, always crowned with a dead baby, but she hadn't screamed. She hid her face against his shoulder, taking little shuddering breaths, as they walked past the dead and even Peter couldn't make himself look too closely at how the little ones had died. It was too painful and too much to handle. He needed to focus. Tears of grief and regret flowed freely down his cheeks but he couldn't stop and mourn them properly or move them to a more appropriate resting place. Edmund needed him to keep going. But, he would be back and he would bury them with all the dignity and respect they deserved. He promised._

_He stopped in his tracks when a pained scream filled the air. "Edmund." Peter barely remembered to grab Thalia's hand as he dashed further into the maze. He had to hurry. He had to reach Edmund. _

_They ran until Edmund's screams grew loud enough that Peter was certain he was just on the other side of the hedge wall. Only then did he stop with Thalia beside him. He patted his hip, only to be reminded that he still did not have his sword. He scowled fiercely. What a bloody inconvenience! Edmund screamed again. Peter touched Thalia's elbow then crouched on the ground and crawled over to a narrow hole at the bottom of the hedge hall. Thalia pressed up beside him as she copied his movements. _

_The enemy was there. Six, no, eight of them arranged in a circle around the very center of the glade that marked the middle of the maze. He couldn't see Edmund, but he heard Edmund cry out in agony again. One of the hooded and cloaked enemy shifted places and Peter caught sight of a bloodstained scourge. No. _

_Thalia bumped into his side and he made a slight gesture to silence her. Thalia bumped into him again and Peter turned, ready to scold, only to freeze when he caught the agonized expression on her face and the way her whole body was shuddering like…like her tree was shuddering under the force of an axe. Her face twisted and he clapped his hand over her mouth, rolling them both away from the hole in the hedge as he did so. Thalia shuddered and then her whole body began to writher. Peter bit his lip to keep from screaming in rage and disbelief as he held her while she shuddered in pain for what seemed like forever. She convulsed one last time and then she turned into leaves before vanishing, leaving him cradling naught but air. Peter choked as he struggled to keep silent. Thalia…his Thalia was gone. Her tree had been felled, meaning this attack reached beyond Cair Paravel. Oh Aslan, no. Oh Aslan, where are You? Where are You?_

_Fury pounded through his blood as he slowly gained his feet. He would not let them get away with killing everyone he loved and cared about, he would not let them take Edmund as well. Uncaring that he was unarmed; Peter charged down the short corridor and burst into the center of the maze. "Release him!"_

_An eerie laughter rose as the hooded and cloaked figures stepped aside, revealing that the large marble table had been set on its end and Edmund was pinned to it. His shirt hung in tattered shreds, his feet were bare, and there was a hole in the knee of his leggings. His pale slender arms were marred with bloody stripes and the two swords Edmund used to fight had been driven through his hands, pinning him to the table. A single hooded figure stood in front of him with Rhindon drawn and aimed at the round scar where Jadis had driven the remnant of her wand into him. _

_Peter shouted, "No!"_

_The hooded figure turned its head and then reached up with a reddened glove to push back its hood. Peter stared in horror as he looked into his own face, his own eyes. No! No, it couldn't be- He blinked and suddenly found himself staring into Edmund's disbelieving eyes, which were beginning to cloud over as Edmund stopped breathing. "No!" _

_Peter looked down and lurched back, nearly falling as he tripped over his own feet. His sword…Rhindon had been driven through Edmund's body and his hand had been on the hilt. "No!" _

_He closed his eyes, willing it to be a trick, anything that would make this not be true. It couldn't be true. He opened his eyes and he saw a great feast with the Tisroc, Medea, Telmarine bandits, and Jadis herself in attendance who then raised their glasses to toast him. "No! Aslan! ASLAN!"_

_He closed his eyes, shaking his head. It couldn't be, it couldn't be this way. He opened his eyes and he saw the golden Lion sitting with His back to him. "Aslan! Aslan, please fix this! Tell me what to do to fix it!" But Aslan did not answer. Instead, He looked over His shoulder once and eyes full of sorrow and disappointment met Peter's before He turned His head and vanished. Peter collapsed to his knees as he saw the whole of Narnia laid out before him, burned and littered with the dead people who had been his to protect. He had failed. He had failed. "NOOOOOOOO!" _

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24 Lenisgale 1007

Peter woke with a gasp. He blinked tears back. His stomach growled noisily and his throat felt like it was on fire. He swallowed painfully as he blinked water out of his eyes. His clothes were wet and water was trickling down his spine. He scanned the tent and met the Shark's contemplative gaze. It had been another nightmare, the worst yet but still just another nightmare. Thank Aslan, it wasn't real. It wasn't real. He hadn't failed to protect his family and everyone and everything dear to him. He hadn't failed them.

The Shark broke the silence. "I must admit I am impressed you are not a gibbering fool worth only his weight in bait. The little dream potion that the sea witch gave me usually has a greater effect on my prisoners. I have seen grown men claw out their own eyes in an effort to stop the images as their greatest fears are captured and they are then forced to experience them. My understanding is that the fears and the nightmares grow worse and more intense, more real until you are desperate to stop it."

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came. His throat was too parched (though at the moment it felt more like someone had scraped hot coals inside his throat), apparently from the screams that had escaped his nightmare. The Shark bared his teeth and then made a slight motion. One of his men stepped forward with a ladle that was so full Peter could see water lipping the edges and trickling over the sides. The man held the ladle to his cracked lips and Peter drank. At that moment, he didn't care if Rahzjin had slipped more of that awful potion into the water. All he cared about was quenching his thirst.

When the last of the blessedly cool liquid was gone, the man left and Rahzjin crouched in front of him, examining Peter closely. "Tell me, how is it that a king believes in such weak ideas of mercy and forgiveness? You are purportedly the leader of your country, you should be strong, not hiding behind these ideas of nobility like a child hides behind his mother's apron."

Peter licked his chapped lips, pushing down the urge to flinch when his mind conjured the memory of Lucy's dead face. That was just a dream, just a horrible, horrible dream. He needed to focus on the here and now. The words from a play in that Other World, Spare 'Oom, rose and he spoke them almost before they fully formed in his mind, "Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge." The Shark drew back almost imperceptibly as Peter continued, "Nobility is not a mark of cruelty nor who can be the most tyrannical. It is the mark of one who has learned to look beyond his own needs and, most especially, his own wants to see what is necessary to meet the needs of his people and to then take the appropriate actions. True nobility comes from true strength. It takes a stronger man to do what is right in the eyes of Aslan than to do what is right in his own eyes. One who is truly noble understands that he who is called to be a leader is not being called to be a tyrant but to be a servant."

Rahzjin sneered, "Perhaps a mere noble could get away with such softness, but a king must be strong and as hard and unyielding as stone. Mercy and forgiveness and being a _servant_ is the talk of the weak, only the strongest survive. Only the shark rules the seas because he is feared by all those less than he. Telmar has no king because none among the precious First Six families are strong enough to crush all resistance and bring the others to heel. None have been strong enough to challenge the First Six either…at least, not yet." The Shark glanced over his shoulder and Peter followed his gaze to meet the contemplative eyes of the Lords Kazimierz and Tuanka. Kazimierz's presence did not surprise him; in fact, his would have been the first name to come to mind if Peter had been asked to name possible suspects. But, Tuanka…Tuanka did surprise him for the thin, tall Lord of the Council had been the most congenial, most reasonable and most accommodating of the lords during negotiations.

Peter wondered if the Lords had heard Rahzjin's veiled threat, but that was unimportant. Now, he knew he had to speak not only to the Shark but also to these two Lords. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was some small grain of decency in their souls that would listen to mercy's appeal. Again, the words of a play rose in his mind and he weaved them into his speech. "You are a fool, Rahzjin. Do you not realize that the quality of mercy is not strained? It falls like a gentle rain from the heavens and is twice blessed for it blesses he that gives mercy and he who takes mercy. Mercy is mightiest in the mightiest for it becomes a monarch better than his very crown. The king's scepter shows the force of his temporal power, which is an attribute to the awe and majesty wherein sits the dread and fear of kings. But mercy, mercy is above this sceptered sway, above the power of kings' reach, for mercy is enthroned in hearts of kings and it is an attribute of Aslan Himself. The earthly power of a king best mirrors the power of Aslan and of His Father when mercy seasons and tempers justice. A tyrant who shows no mercy then is in defiance of not only those things required of true leaders, but also of Aslan and His Father." He swallowed the sudden urge to shout a denial when the image of Aslan's disappointed eyes and how He had turned His back after his failure to be the leader he was supposed to be flashed in his memory. No, that was a dream… "Mercy is not weakness but strength. True power and true leadership is earned, not forcibly wrested away and then kept by crushing all resistance and disagreement beneath your boot. You may indeed take a position of leadership through fear and ruthlessness, but you will never rest easy because there shall always be a sword hanging over your head, suspended only by a slender thread, which anyone can cut at any time. Without mercy, your reign would be even more perilous than others for the threats from within will fester under the surface compliance until it bursts forth and yourself harpooned by a weapon of your own making."

Rahzjin studied him closely but said nothing when he stood up as Lord Tuanka approached. The treacherous lord stared down at Peter before he posed a question, "You wrested your kingship away from the witch who was queen of Narnia."

Peter shook his head, "It is true that I and my siblings are rulers by right of conquest, but we also rule by election, by prescription, and, most importantly, we rule by the gift of Aslan."

The Telmarines all sneered slightly when he mentioned ruling by the gift of Aslan, but Tuanka uncurled his lip as he looked down at him with a gimlet eye. "What of challenges? You do answer them, do you not?"

Peter didn't answer right away. His mind was racing with the possible outcomes that could be achieved is this conversation was, indeed, going where he thought it was going. "It is my responsibility to answer challenges and to protect my own by means of combat."

Tuanka's eyes gleamed, "Then you would accept my challenge for a fight to the death and if you win, you go free."

"No." Peter watched confusion and fury flicker through Tuanka's gaze, but he didn't care. He had no real reason to fight Tuanka and if he killed him, it would only bring trouble to Narnia and his family. He couldn't do that, he couldn't bring trouble to them. Not when they would end up like… He shook his head slightly, banishing the memory of their sightless eyes and pleading voices. No, no, he couldn't have that happen. He could never let that happen…_never_.

The Shark stepped forward then with a flicker of something akin to anticipation in his face. "Perhaps, the young eagle would appreciate a change of scenery?"

Peter fought to hide his wariness. After so many days in this tent, he had begun to suspect that Rahzjin would only remove him from it when he was dead or when he was to be executed. As it was, when the Shark's men entered the tent and unchained him from the post then cut the ropes tying his feet together, Peter nearly fell on his face. His legs felt like all their strength had been siphoned out as he was half-dragged, half-helped out the tent. He blinked at the glare from the setting sun. How long had he been caught in that nightmare? Maybe he had his day and night mixed up.

Fortunately, once they had nearly reached the outskirts of the camp, Peter regained feeling in his legs and was able to walk under his own power though the Shark's men did not ease the painfully tight grip they had on his arms. He could hear horses nickering and whinnying. Why execute him on the outskirts of camp? Why not in the center of the camp where they could bring all their men to witness the event? What was the Shark planning?

A horse whinnied again and for one brief moment Peter contemplated knocking one guard out and taking his sword then making a break for the horses. But then Susan's battered face flashed in front of his eyes and he stumbled, drawing curses from the guards. No. No he couldn't bring that fate down on his sisters, on Narnia. He couldn't, which meant he had to go to the fate allotted him. Aslan would hold his family and his country between His paws. Peter could at least trust the Lion would not turn His back on Narnia for Narnia had not failed him…and Peter would not fail to protect them with his very life. He shoved away the vague idea of escape. He could not condemn all of Narnia solely for his own life.

They emerged from the last row of tents and Peter stared in shock. A little ways from the long picket line of horses was an unmistakable form…Oreius. Oreius was alive, thank Aslan, he hadn't been killed. A sudden chill snaked its way down Peter's spine as he realized the Shark's most likely game. But…but he could find a way to rescue Oreius and himself _without_ bringing disaster in his wake. It was risky, no doubt, however, Peter had never been able to leave even one soldier behind if he could help it. And, he had come back into Telmar for Oreius, so Aslan as his witness, he was not going to leave Oreius in Telmar.

The Shark watched his face closely, stepping next to him and whispering in his ear, "What do you say to that challenge now, young eagle?"

Peter swallowed as though he were nervous with his reply (replicating Edmund's sneakiness was almost too easy) before he twisted to look back at the three Telmarines. "I will accept the challenge provided that if I win, both I and the Centaur and all that we brought with us into Telmar are allowed to leave Telmar without being accosted…and we will be mercifully forgetful in regards to who was here and why our return to our own country was delayed."

The Shark let out that cold facsimile of a laugh then shook his head, "No. The provisions hold nothing useful to us so their loss is of no matter. However, two lives for one is not a good bargain. You should fight two Telmarines and earn first your life then the Centaur's."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Rahzjin, "I didn't think you would be part of the fight. I thought you preferred to watch and then pick off the remains after such fights."

His hope to provoke Rahzjin into declaring himself the second fighter died when Lord Kazimierz shouldered Lord Tuanka to the side. "I will fight you, peasant king."

Peter didn't glance at Oreius (although knowing the General, his face was most likely as impassive as always) as he looked down and then slowly nodded. "Very well, I accept the challenge to fight Lords Kazimierz and Tuanka to the death with the understanding that the Centaur and I and our belongings will depart Telmar unchallenged should I win."

The Shark nodded once, "Done. The duel will take place tomorrow at one hour after sunrise."

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Oreius studied the fatigued and drawn features of the High King's face. His colt was alive, Aslan be praised, but he feared that whatever had happened to the colt over the last nine days had rendered him too weak to fight. He had not failed to notice the look of relief in Peter's eyes when he saw him and from the few whispered conversations they had hurriedly snatched earlier, it seemed Peter had been misled to think he had been killed. Now, though, he was most concerned about Peter's physical state. Oreius eyed the guards' positions but they were far enough away he did not think their night vision would detect his movements.

He had seen the guards bring Peter water alone, but the colt needed food, especially if he was to fight two duels in the morn. Oreius awkwardly shifted until he was able to lower himself to the ground next to the High King who was no longer bound by his hands but secured to the ground by a relatively short length of chain running from a thick iron peg to an iron collar around his neck. Peter looked up but didn't say anything as Oreius handed him the rations he had managed to smuggle out of Peter's pack earlier. Thank Aslan that the Telmarines had decided to just let him fetch his rations out of whichever pack they happened to bring (though he hadn't been taking any from Peter's pack before that evening). The colt stared at the food as though he had forgotten what it was for. Oreius quietly whispered, "Peter. Eat."

Peter tore into the food, wolfing it down, only slowing his pace when Oreius patiently reminded him to eat in a less rushed manner. The colt met his gaze with determination, "I can win tomorrow, Oreius."

"Then do so, but remember your current limits and adapt accordingly."

"Yes, Oreius."

The High King settled down for the night without another word being exchanged between them. Oreius watched the stars, but they carried the same message as the last time he had searched them. While he was worried that the duel might prove more difficult than it would otherwise for Peter, he was also proud of the colt for thinking of such a clever way to engineer their escape. There was risk, yes, but this was the kind of acceptable risk he had spent the last seven years pounding into his kings' heads during their lessons. A faint whimper caught his attention and Oreius looked down to see Peter thrashing restlessly with distress clearly written across his face.

"Peter, wake." The colt didn't respond. If anything, he seemed to grow more distressed. Oreius leaned forward and shook the High King's shoulder, "Peter. Wake up. Wake up."

The colt jerked awake, gasping as though he had been fighting or perhaps screaming. He was trembling. "No! No, don't let them die. Aslan, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't turn away from me please."

Oreius kept one hand on his shoulder, trying not to worry overmuch about how much thinner Peter was, and placed his other hand on Peter's head. "Shh, peace, my colt, peace. It was a dream. Only a dream."

Still trembling, the High King looked at him and Oreius read the fear and guilt in his eyes. Whatever this nightmare had involved, it had made the colt blame himself for something terrible. "They were all dead, Oreius, all of them. I couldn't reach any of them in time, Susan died in my arms and they hurt her so…so much. I failed to protect them, I failed them, I failed and Aslan knew… He- He wouldn't even look at me."

Oreius squeezed his shoulder and kept his hand on Peter's head, "No, Peter, you did not fail. It was naught but a dream. Look at me." He waited until the colt looked up and then continued, keeping his tone gentle but not inviting argument or interruption. "You are the High King. It is your duty to protect your family and your people. I have yet to see you fail to protect them. Your family awaits your return in Cair Paravel. This was a dream guided by fear, nothing more. For even if you were not able to prevent tragedy from striking Narnia and your own family, Aslan would never turn His back on you. You are His, His chosen king, chosen High King, and simply His chosen. We may not understand why things happen, whether our worst fears become reality or not, but we may always know and understand that Aslan does not release those who His. He shall always hold you, your family, and all of Narnia between His paws. He does not turn His back on us, not even when we turn our backs on Him. He is forever faithful."

Peter nodded very slowly and Oreius watched the fear recede from his colt's eyes. "You are right, Oreius. Thank you for reminding me what my dream would have had me forget." Though the High King did not return to sleep right away, that was the last they spoke until finally Oreius felt the tension leave his colt's shoulder as he was reclaimed by a more peaceful sleep. He looked up at the stars again and silently prayed for Peter to have strength and to fight well in the morn.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Well...I think the nightmare section of this chapter is a prime example for why no one really wants me to be writing horror stuff in a true Halloween story. :) All right, hopefully, the last two sections helped make up for the extra dose of horror in the nightmare section. I promise THIS is the worst that will happen in this story. A big thank you to WillowDryad who helped me work this all out and was willing to read the nightmare piecemeal while checking to make sure it wasn't TOO intense. The two plays Peter remembers and quotes/paraphrases from are Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus and The Merchant of Venice respectively. ****Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: The Duel

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Nineteen: The Duel

25 Lenisgale 1007

Peter opened his eyes, trying to figure out what had woken him. It was still dark, but it didn't take long for him to realize the large shadow beside him was Oreius, whose hand was still resting heavily on his shoulder. The Centaur whispered, "I am sorry for waking you, but you need to try to eat a little more before that filth sends any of his men to fetch you for the duel."

He felt stiff when he tried to sit up and a dull ache radiated from his neck where the iron collar had dug into his skin while he slept. Oreius braced him and also kept the chain from clinking until Peter finally managed to sit upright. He gave a slight nod and Oreius removed his hand from his shoulder while carefully releasing the chain. Peter knew his hands were trembling slightly as he accepted the food Oreius handed him, but it was taking all his effort to keep his entire body from shaking at that point. The food, being Narnian, was filling and delicious and yet, in spite of how hungry he was, Peter could barely choke down more than a quarter of it. Oreius didn't say a word, though he knew the Centaur was probably worried about how little food he was actually able to consume, and merely offered him a ladle dripping with water.

Peter reached for it, only stop as fear, fear of what nightmarish terrors would stalk his sleep, froze his hand. The Shark had slipped the sea witch's dream potion into the water Peter had been given…what if this too was tainted? Oreius' voice cut through his whirling thoughts, "Peter, this is the water they allotted to me. The Shark would have no reason to taint it. Drink. It is safe, my King, I swear it."

Licking his chapped lips, Peter forced himself to take the ladle and raise it to his mouth. He unconsciously braced himself but the water was only refreshing and cool. It was…not sweet. Peter closed his eyes as he recalled how the water he was given always tasted just the slightest bit sweet. He had thought it was simply because of how parched he'd been, but now he suspected the hint of sweetness had actually been the dream potion. Fool. He should have known better but he had willingly drank the tainted water without paying attention to any oddities. Oreius would be ashamed of how he had forgotten one of the first survival lessons he'd been taught.

Oreius was watching him closely, he could sense the Centaur's gaze, but no scolding came. Instead, Oreius quietly instructed, "Try to eat a little more. And then, Wolfsbane, you will assess your current condition in preparation for the duel."

"Yes, General." Peter managed to nibble a bit more of the food before his stomach threatened to rebel if he took another bite. Then he once again drank a little of the cool, untainted water. Stretching out his arms, Peter allowed himself to become immersed in the familiarity of the assessment exercise. He had a mild headache from a lack of restful sleep and food, but it was no longer an impediment. His hands were still trembling, but it was finer now and it could be easily compensated for and controlled. His fingers were slightly swollen, but he could bend them without suffering any pain (not to mention he had once fought in a tournament and won after his ring finger had been broken during the second of four matches). His arms felt a little heavy and he suspected that Rhindon would feel heavy and he would struggle to keep it from dragging…at least until he entered the warrior's center. His neck was sore but that would not affect his fighting. His legs, though, might if he had not fully recovered from all the time he had spent chained with his feet bound together. He took hope in the fact he had finally been able to walk without being dragged once he had reached the outskirts of the Shark's camp. Very well, his legs had been somewhat weakened but most of the effect could possibly have worn off by now, so a possible disadvantage but not a guaranteed one. He wriggled his toes, and then nodded to Oreius, "I can fight."

Oreius gave a curt nod, "Remember, this fight will depend on your endurance for you are at the disadvantage going in and you will be further disadvantaged when you face your second opponent. Take the necessary precautions, use your head, and do not stand still any longer than necessary. Do not fight to be courteous, fight to win. Fight as How would."

Yes, fight like Edmund. Be sneaky and clever. Peter nodded, noticing that he could better make out the Centaur's features now. Dawn was fighting its slow way to pierce through the dark and the fog. Oreius took the uneaten food and the empty ladle and made it appear as though they had never made it to Peter. Then, the Centaur slowly and awkwardly rose to his feet, letting out a low sigh as his shackles clinked together. Peter frowned. He needed to think of a way to get Oreius out of those restraints before the duel.

Oreius looked down at him, "Does Sepphora live?"

Peter nodded, but a series of shouts warned the Shark and his men were coming, preventing Peter from giving a full answer. He'd tell the Centaur everything he knew about the other member of their small envoy to Telmar later…after he won the duel and they were far from this terrible place. That way the General wouldn't have to worry about Kat wandering around Telmar or prowling the border between Telmar and Sisemaal.

Rahzjin emerged from the fog with a pleasant expression that seemed almost as alien on his face as his facsimile of a laugh. There was something off, something dark and wrong, in how the pleasantness the Shark was attempting to convey clashed unnervingly with his unchanging cold eyes. "So, young eagle, are you ready to die?"

He ignored the taunt as one of the Shark's men removed the iron collar from his neck, "I am ready to begin the duel under one further condition."

"And what is that?"

Standing, Peter gestured to Oreius, "I wish my companion to be present and unshackled for the duel. This is my only condition since I am certain that you have already moved our provisions to where they may be easily acquired should I win."

The unnerving pleasant expression remained on the Shark's face as he held up a hand, "The shackles prevent the beast from leaving or attacking us."

Peter met the Shark's cold eyes and did not look away as he countered, "The General will remain in the camp and he will not engage you, you have my word. He will not break it. Let him be bound by the wrists for the duration of the duel and he may stay by the gathered provisions, so he may still witness this duel since it involves the fate of both my life and his. Unless, of course, you are too uncertain of your men's ability to keep their heads if he were present."

The sly little barb pricked more at the Shark's men than at the Shark himself, but by slipping it in, Peter made sure Rahzjin could not leave Oreius shackled here where an assassin might kill him. Not without informing his men that he doubted their control, indeed, their very essence as warriors. Something he would not do if he were as crafty as Peter believed, especially since these men were not hired but longtime members of the Shark's crew.

His strategy was proven correct when the Shark gestured and two men bound Oreius' hands while two others removed the shackles. The Centaur stamped each hoof once then allowed himself to be led toward the center of the camp (when a Centaur was merely bound by ropes around his wrists with a single lead, it was _always_ a matter of the Centaur allowing himself to be led than actual leading). Peter knew Oreius' legs were probably stiff but he gave no hint of that even being a factor. His own legs still felt a bit stiff, but that was better than rubbery. Rahzjin led the men playing at being his escort along a slightly different path to the center of camp. Peter tried not to let that fact worry him. He needed to stay focused on his plan.

It appeared that all the Telmarines, including both the Shark's men and those who were pledged to the two Lords of the Council, were gathered in a large ring around the center of the camp. Peter noticed that four tents had been pulled down and the ground had been leveled with any potential hazards tossed into a pile off to the side. Four stakes marked the corners of the square with a low rope strung between them to form the boundaries of the dueling field. Peter's gaze darted over the crowd, not relaxing until he spotted Oreius standing to the right of the sparring area with their packs and his weapons on the ground next to him. Peter thanked Aslan that the Shark hadn't pulled another trick since he wasn't sure he could come up with yet another plan to counter it.

The Shark bared his teeth at him as he gestured and one of his men stepped forward holding Rhindon. Then Rahzjin spoke so his voice would carry across the gathering, "By the laws of Telmar, the Narnian called Peter has accepted the right of challenge. To win his freedom and safe passage to his heathen land, he will fight Lord Tuanka of the noble house of the Dragon in a duel to the death. Should the Narnian survive, he will fight Lord Kazimierz of the noble house of the Hawk to the death in order to win the freedom and safe passage of the Centaur. None shall interfere with this duel no matter his liege lord or I will gut the coward and leave his entrails to feed the vultures. Should the Narnian live through the entire duel, he and the Centaur will not be prevented from leaving this camp. Any who interfere will suffer the curse of Anzu, and never shall the sails of their soul ships lead them to the shore of Anzu's Eyrie."

Peter's fingers were itching to take Rhindon, but he couldn't just yet. To take his mind off the way the Shark's man was callously holding Rhindon and how the Shark had already abused that faithful blade, his first gift from Father Christmas, Peter focused on Tuanka. The tall Lord of the Council was built like an archer, lean and most likely fast enough on his feet, but while his eyes glittered with confidence, Peter knew this Lord had never fought in a true battle, maybe some tournaments, though he doubted it. There was always an edge, however slight, to those who had taken lives, something that set them apart from civilians and the innocents and the naïve. Tuanka might know how to fight and how to draw blood in the council meetings or even by being cruel to those he deemed his inferiors, but he was no blooded warrior. His confidence was a product of untested cockiness. That gave Peter the advantage, but his opponent was fresh, well-rested, and had not been on a forced fast, which gave _him_ an advantage. Another advantage for Tuanka was that fact that he was wearing armor…Peter hadn't even brought armor with him on either the official trip or this rescue for he had not planned to be in a tournament and it was deemed wearing armor would only provoke Telmar.

Tuanka took one step toward the staked off field of combat, but Rahzjin sneered at him, "Cowards! Do you so fear this young eagle who is not your equal in any way that you would cheat a win by fighting armored when your opponent, this boy who has yet to see thirty years, has none?"

Tuanka's narrow face contorted in rage and then he backhanded a younger man who was probably his valet, "You would have me look a fool?" Tuanka stripped out of his armor in hurried jerky movements then threw his armor on the ground in a move rather reminiscent of a child's tantrum. "Let none here claim that the Lord of the House of the Dragon is a coward. I do not fear the Narnian whelp."

Had the Shark not been facing him, Peter would have missed the glint of dark satisfaction like that of a predator who had just caught the first scent of blood in his eyes. He suppressed a shudder and the urge to warn Tuanka that the Shark was playing mind games with him and his fellow Lord. They would not have listened to him and he feared that the Shark might kill Oreius if he did not appear to play along with this game.

Tuanka stepped inside the ropes, flourishing his sword in a manner that Oreius had long pounded into Peter and Edmund's heads as useless flashy movements meant to distract from potential flaws in one's form and were more likely to present an opening for a clean thrust than to block. The Centaur had also lightly cuffed Edmund on the back of the head when he had asked if it would be useful to do at the opening of a match. It was a discredit to one's training to have to resort to such tricks and it was different from a pure demonstration of one's skill and control over the blade.

The Shark's man stepped forward and Peter made a split-second decision before he drew Rhindon. The sword's weight was comforting and slightly heavier than usual. He raised the blade up in a simple salute and prayed to Aslan that his plan was feasible. He allowed Rhindon to fall a little quicker than it should have and let the point of the sword almost touch the ground for a moment before he struggled to raise it back into proper position. _Let this work, Aslan, please._

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Oreius tapped one of his rear hoofs against the turf, automatically assessing the fighting terrain. The ground was hard, not much cushion for the combatants if they fell, and the grass was somewhat slick due to the fog. Not an ideal time or conditions for a duel but he knew the colt would be able to compensate for it. What he did fear was how much his colt had to compensate for. He wished he had been able to get more food into him, replenish some of the strength that had been stolen due to the Shark's treatment. But, there was naught he could do now other than to trust that Peter would stick to his training. _Please, Aslan, keep him between Thy paws and grant him strength._

He watched Peter closely, taking care to keep his thoughts from showing on his face. When Peter let Rhindon drop, Oreius nearly believed that Peter's strength would not be enough but then he noticed the barely there deliberateness to Peter's weakened movements. The colt's form when he sloppily deflected Tuanka's initial blow was embarrassingly poor and, if it had not been a part of his clever plan, would have earned him multiple visits to the points of the compass.

Tuanka fought with unrestrained enthusiasm, wasting energy with large sweeping blows, and often leaving his body completely exposed. Fool. His teacher must have gnashed his teeth over his form many a time.

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Peter resisted the urge to take advantage of yet another opening that Tuanka had presented. He had to wonder if Tuanka ever fought anyone who hadn't been scared into letting him win. Probably not. He took care to keep his strikes a little too weak to break Tuanka's blocks. He couldn't let himself expend too much energy. He had another fight to win.

Tuanka pirouetted (as Edmund would call it) and his blade flashed toward Peter's head. Peter's foot slipped and he went down hard on one knee as Tuanka's sword whistled overhead. There was an opportunity to end the fight, and Peter made to take it but Rhindon felt heavy in his grip so he allowed his counter to come just a little too slow. Fortunately, Tuanka slipped before he could think to stab him and landed face first on the ground to the barely constrained amusement of the watching Telmarines.

Peter scrambled back to his feet and once again raised Rhindon. Tuanka surged to his own feet half a moment later and spun to face him again. The muffled laughter had obviously infuriated him. Now, his movements grew jerky and more mistakes appeared. Peter baited his opponent by turning slightly so he appeared vulnerable and then braced himself for Tuanka to do something reckless.

Tuanka lunged forward, his blade slashing toward Peter's currently unprotected side. The Lord dropped his shield arm as he did so, revealing the perfect opening. Peter finally took the opportunity. Rhindon snapped up and cut cleanly through the Telmarine Lord's richly embroidered woolen surcoat and the underlying tunic. Peter felt the brief resistance of skin and muscle before Rhindon sank between Tuanka's ribs, piercing his heart. Tuanka looked surprised as he fell to his knees, sliding off Rhindon, and toppling to his side.

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The Shark stepped into the dueling square. The foolish Lord of the Council had finally been done in by his own reckless belief in his invincibility. The young eagle looked weary as he stepped back from Tuanka's body. He wondered if he might be able to break the foolish concept of nobility that the young eagle had so fiercely argued for only last night. "The Narnian known as Peter has slain Lord Tuanka of the noble house of the Dragon and has own his freedom and safe passage. He must now choose to either take his possessions and leave or to remain and fight once more to free the Centaur. What is your choice?"

The young eagle tensed as he returned his gaze then tersely replied, "I am ready to fight unless Lord Kazimierz has changed his mind and chooses to forfeit the duel."

Rahzjin could anticipate the further spilling of blood, if he were especially blessed by Anzu it would be both the Narnian and the Lord of the Council who received fatal blows. "As you wish." He gestured and Tuanka's men came forward to remove his body. Then the man who held the scabbard for the young eagle's sword stepped forward and provided the Narnian with a cleaning cloth. The Shark turned to Kazimierz and stalked to the opposite side of the square to confront the Lord of the Council. "You still wear your armor. Is the Lord of the House of the Hawk so afraid that he needs to cheat to win?"

Kazimierz narrowed his eyes at him and merely held out his hand for his man to hand him his sword, "I do not cheat nor am I to be manipulated by the likes of you. This so-called High King will learn the same lesson I will teach you once this is finished."

The Shark sneered and retreated to his own vantage point, opposite the Centaur so he might enjoy the beast's expression when the young eagle was slaughtered in front of him. As for Kazimierz…well, he was an aging warrior who could receive a mortal blow without anyone pinpointing the exact moment. The Shark called for the new match to begin and watched for blood…

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Peter eyed his new opponent with some apprehension. Kazimierz was older, perhaps near or in his fifties, but he had the air of a seasoned fighter. Shorter than Tuanka, and even Peter himself, but his build was burlier than Peter's and his frame was well-covered by chainmail. Once again the advantage of being a fresh fighter went to Peter's opponent, but this time Peter would have to figure out a different strategy. Kazimierz was too experienced to indulge in the flashy movements that had been Tuanka's undoing.

They circled each other, searching for an opportunity, though Peter was still conserving his strength. Still, he tried to avoid presenting Kazimierz with any openings, intentional or not. Kazimierz charged, slamming his blade against Rhindon with such force that it shook Peter's arms and shoulders. Peter grunted then cried out in surprise as his footing slipped and he suddenly fell hard on his knee.

Kazimierz didn't hesitate. He stabbed down and Peter barely deflected the blade as he rolled to his right. He struggled back to his feet and nearly slipped again as he dodged Kazimierz's sword. But, he wasn't able to get away fast enough and Kazimierz drew first blood, slicing into Peter's upper arm. Peter cried out then whirled in, freeing himself from the blade before it could do too much damage and slashing Kazimierz's leg, but missing any vital arteries. They broke away from each other and circled once again as Peter tried to ignore the waves of pain radiating from his upper arm.

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Oreius stamped a hoof in frustration as he reined in the urge to interfere when Peter fell and cried out. His colt could do this on his own, he knew his colt had the training to do so. Still the temptation to interfere was not an easy one to silence as Oreius watched Kazimierz force Peter into expending more and more energy. _Use your head, my colt. Be sneaky as your brother would be. He is older and has more weight to shift each time he moves, use that against him! No, don't let him push you to the ground again. Make his weight a liability to him and an advantage to yourself. Move, Peter, move, move, move!_

He flicked his tail and pawed at the ground with one hoof as he watched the fight progress. Twice Peter had been able to force Kazimierz back to the ropes and had scored hits, but Oreius could see such efforts were steadily draining Peter's strength. Kazimierz sensed the same the same vulnerability and began to press harder, hit harder, seeking to exhaust Peter into stepping into a deadly trap. His colt was steadily losing what little advantage he had had in this fight. Aslan forgive him, but he would not be able to wait much longer before interfering to save him. It might cost him his own life, but he would not allow Peter to be killed in this duel.

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Peter gasped as black spots danced in front of his eyes. The cold, damp grass beneath him was chilling the sweat dampening his tunic. He blinked and Kazimierz loomed over him, sword poised for a killing blow. With a desperate yell, Peter smacked the blade away with Rhindon then kicked out at Kazimierz, striking his heel against the ankle Kazimierz was favoring after his last slip, and knocking his opponent off his feet.

Peter rolled away and scrambled back to his feet, raising Rhindon. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, making his heart pound even louder than his ragged gasps. But, Rhindon was fast becoming a leaden weight constantly pulling his arms down. He needed to find a way to end this fight. Now.

Kazimierz stalked purposefully toward him. The older man was winded, but not so much that he would stop. However, he might, just might, be winded enough for the crazy plan, one equal to Edmund and Kat's crazy schemes, that had bloomed in his mind to work. Peter threw caution to the wind and charged Kazimierz, shouting as he slammed Rhindon against the other's sword, forcing Kazimierz to stumble back a step. Kazimierz swiftly recovered and slammed his gloved fist against Peter's unprotected head, making his ears ring painfully.

Peter yelped as his head snapped to the side from the force of the blow and his feet slipped out from under him. He fell to his knees, jarring them with the impact against the hard ground. Kazimierz raised his sword to strike a killing blow. Desperation adding to his speed, Peter lunged forward and, grabbing Kazimierz's wrist, yanked hard, forcing the sword to slice a line down the back of his shoulder as he jabbed upward with Rhindon. Rhindon pierced the unprotected area just under Kazimierz's arm. _I need to remember to use that move in future duels as well._

The Lord of the Council reeled back with a cry of pain, slipping as he did so and landing heavily on his to his feet and crossing the scant distance, Peter quickly placed Rhindon under the man's chin, panting as he spoke, "If you yield now, I will spare your life and ignore this attempt on me and mine. Yield or die and the Shark will finish picking off the rest of your Council of Lords."

Kazimierz stared at him for a long moment before he shouted, "I am defeated! I yield to the Narnian. He has won this fight."

Peter nodded as he removed Rhindon and stepped back, though he did not lower the sword completely as the Shark entered the field of combat amidst the murmurs of the Telmarines. The Shark bared his teeth at him. "The Narnian known as Peter has defeated Lord Kazimierz and has won the freedom of the Centaur. Take your possessions and leave this camp unharmed."

_Thank you, Aslan. _Peter grabbed the cleaning cloth and wiped Rhindon clean before sliding Rhindon into its sheath then buckling the sword around his waist. The adrenaline was starting to drain and he felt exhaustion threaten, but he couldn't let his guard down just yet. Peter hurried to Oreius and used Kat's dagger to slice through the ropes, muttering, "All your training, General, all your training served me well. Thank you, Oreius."

Oreius gave a curt nod as he grabbed his own weapons and buckled them on with practiced ease. His stony expression kept the few remaining Telmarines at bay. Peter glanced over his shoulder and defiantly met the Shark's glare for a long moment. Neither looked away until a muffled shout from the tent where Kazimierz had been taken distracted them. Peter turned back to Oreius. His rescue was a success. "General, let's get out of here." They exited the camp, heading for the northern path, all without looking back. Peter was happy to leave that place.

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Rahzjin looked on in silence as Lord Kazimierz was helped onto his horse. Had he been able to reach the Lord of the Council first, there would have been two empty seats instead of just one. Kazimierz glared down at him, "I will not forget how you attempted to betray both of your employers, Shark. May the curse of Anzu fall on you."

The Shark sneered at the wounded Lord, but did not speak. Instead, he merely watched as Kazimierz took his men and departed. It was a pity that the foolish king had once again showed mercy. If he had been more aggressive then war between Telmar and Narnia would have been guaranteed and the Shark would have been able to pick their bones from his new position as a Lord of the Council, the first Lord who came from humble origins. The hawk god would not curse him, though. Anzu understood ambition, for he himself overthrew the owl god by showing the sea serpents where the owl god liked to glide low over the waters of an inlet. Nevertheless, he still had a plan to not only earn a place on the Council of Telmar, but to wrest control from the pompous, over-privileged Lords and give Telmar the king she needed to become a true power. How fortunate that he had not sent so many men to ensure Tuanka's escort met with an untimely end as to prevent his plan from working.

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Two in one for the duel. Was it satisfying? They've escaped the camp, now do you think Peter and Oreius are in the clear or is more drama ahead? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	20. Chapter Twenty: To the East

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty: To the East

25 Lenisgale 1007

Peter peered through the mist. But, it was too thick for his eyes to penetrate and even Oreius seemed to be struggling to see much farther than he could. Oreius had already made him stop twice and briskly ordered Sir Wolfsbane to eat. Only a little while ago, the Centaur had handed him another ration and simply looked at him until he started eating. Honestly, Oreius could be just as bad as Susan when it came to making sure he and Edmund were fed.

But, even with the two stops, Peter felt that they were making good time. His wounds had been more scratches than anything and, fortunately, weren't enough to slow him down. There didn't seem to be any pursuit. Of course, it was difficult to tell for sure in this fog. He looked up at Oreius, "Do you hear anything?"

The Centaur shook his head, "No."

"Good." Peter grinned, "Maybe they are adhering to the deal that they were not to pursue us since I won the duel this morn after all. Now, all we need to do is follow this path to reach the Sisemaalian border. It will be easy."

He didn't acknowledge the little voice in the back of his mind warning against the early boast. Actually, that little voice sounded a lot like Kat did whenever he and Edmund or even Tarrin provoked her into lecturing them about the law of Murphy. Oreius was frowning slightly and Peter chuckled (unable to be too somber since he was so glad that they'd both survived the Shark's version of hospitality and that his madcap plan had worked), "Don't tell me, General, that our Kat's finally convinced you that her Murphy is real and conspiring against us."

The Centaur glanced at him but whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut off as three dozen shadows emerged from the mist. The Shark sneered at them, "Death to the Narnians."

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Oreius drew his swords, but still kept an eye on the High King. He did not know if the colt had a large enough reserve of strength to fight once more due to the forced fast the Shark had imposed on him. However, as the men charged, he could only trust that Peter could withstand the fight and do his best to keep the bulk of their attackers focused on him and not the colt.

He reared up and leapt forward, swinging his swords to knock aside blades and cut down attackers. Six fell at his feet. A quick glance over his shoulder proved Peter was yet holding his own. The Shark darted forward but Oreius placed himself between the dishonorable Telmarine and his colt. Fury twisted the Shark's face from unremarkable to a cold menacing visage that almost would have done Jadis credit.

Oreius slammed his swords against the Shark's, forcing him back. Another man dodged between them, swiping at Oreius' legs. He reared up at the same time he knocked the man's sword away. He struck the man's shoulder with his hoof. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching at his broken shoulder. Before Oreius could react, the Shark leapt forward and sliced through the man's neck. There was a predatory gleam in the Shark's eyes as he slew his own man. Oreius dropped his hooves to the ground, sheathing one of his swords as he did so, then he knocked the Shark's bloody blade aside and grabbed the fiend by his chainmail shirt. Peter cried out in pain from somewhere behind him and Oreius made the choice to throw the Shark back. He saw the Shark slide into the cover of the thick mist before he rushed to aid Peter in combating five Telmarines.

The colt was bleeding from a number of wounds, but they looked to be more superficial than anything serious. Nevertheless, it was obvious to Oreius that Peter was flagging. This battle was too much and the colt had already pushed himself to the brink of his current abilities. Oreius whirled, swapping to his claymore, and pushed the remaining Telmarines back with blade and body.

Lashing out with his back hooves, he struck a foolish Telmarine in the head. The man crumpled without a sound. The crescent-shaped shelf jutting out from the mountain was fast becoming littered with bodies and Oreius had seen more than a few Telmarines topple into the mist only to scream as they fell over the cliff. The battle was nearly over.

The Shark emerged from the mist, once again aiming for Peter. Oreius leapt in front of him and slashed, cutting through chainmail and deep into the Shark's shoulder. The madness of bloodlust shone in the man's eyes. This Rahzjin was lost to reason, desiring only blood and carnage even as he collapsed to the ground, unable to lift his sword.

Three more Telmarines attacked, distracting Oreius before he could finish off the Shark. They were desperate and fueled by fear, leading to a fatal mistake that he took advantage of with deadly accuracy. The men fell and then there was silence. The battle was over. He turned to check on Peter, who was bent over with his hands braced on Rhindon's hilt, and the colt gave him a weak wave and a nod. A glance at where he had left the Shark proved that- The Shark was gone! Whirling, Oreius could only watch in horror as the Shark tackled Peter, knocking him back in the same direction as the edge of the shelf. They fell, disappearing into the mist, but he could still hear Peter's scream. "No! Peter!"

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A terrified scream ripped its way free of Peter's throat as he fell through the mist for what seemed like hours. He vaguely registered that Rahzjin had let go of him. He could hear the Shark screaming somewhere in the mist or was that his own voice he heard screaming? He couldn't tell.

He hit something solid. A raw scream escaped his throat as blinding pain erupted. A cracking sound echoed loudly. Blackness engulfed him and he knew no more.

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Oreius stared down into the mist. _Aslan, please! _He could not even form a longer, more coherent plea in his own thoughts. If Peter were… The General frowned as he paced along the edge of the cliff. He needed the mist to thin just a little and then he would be able to judge the distance so he could jump down or somehow find another way down there.

The mist cleared for the briefest moment, showing the ground was not far down, perhaps ten feet at the most. Oreius leapt down, his hooves clattering against the stone and echoing loudly due to the fog. "Peter!"

There was no answer and Oreius took two steps forward, but stopped when the edge of the smaller outcropping abruptly appeared a hair's breadth in front of his hooves. For a moment, the mist cleared again and he saw the Shark another fifteen feet down. Rhazjin's neck hung at an unnatural angle and he was skewered on the broken remains of a pine tree. A spear of the mountains had harpooned the Shark, and somehow his gruesome fate was fitting for his cruel and predatory persona. But, where was Peter?

Turning to the right, he scanned the area, praying that Peter had not fallen to the lower ledge, which was too far for him to survive the fall. The air was dank, grey, and he could not see very far through the fog. However…he _could_ see well enough to spy the body lying perilously close to the edge near the middle of the long, narrow ledge. "No. Peter!"

He didn't move. Oreius felt a tight vise clamping itself around his heart when his colt didn't move. Crossing the distance, he feared the worst when he saw how Peter was lying in the midst of the debris from an uprooted yearling tree that had been lying on its side. It had snapped under Peter's weight. Then he saw Peter's chest rise and fall. Oh thank Aslan, his colt was alive. "Peter?"

Peter remained unresponsive and Oreius carefully knelt beside him, touching the back of his head. His fingers came away red. "Peter. Peter, wake. You must open your eyes, my colt."

Finally, praise Aslan, finally the High King stirred and opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. "Did we win?"

Oreius nodded solemnly, "We won. But you have taken a hard blow to your head. Are you injured anywhere else?"

Peter shook his head then groaned, "No, no, I think my head is the only thing that hurts and you know Edmund would say it's too hard to suffer anything more than a bump. I'm all right, Oreius. I think this tree took the brunt of the damage." He carefully raised himself up on his elbows and gave Oreius a pained smile. "I'm all right." His smile faded, "What about Rahzjin?"

Oreius snorted in contempt, "That Shark has been well and truly harpooned. He will trouble no one again." Then, he held out his hand, "Come, let me help you to your feet. It is time Narnia's High King returned home in one piece."

Peter gave him a weary smile, "I can get up on my own."

Oreius waited but the colt did not move his legs. "Are you planning to rise soon, Wolfsbane? We must get off this ledge before nightfall."

Peter looked up at him with stark fear and no small amount of panic in his wide eyes. "Oreius, I- I can't get up. I can't move my legs!"

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Ahem, am I a mean author? Well, hopefully, the Shark's fate was a satisfying one. As for Peter... Muwhahahahahaha! Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Waiting

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-One: Waiting

26 Lenisgale 1007

Edmund paused just inside the door to Kat's study. Her back was turned to him as she set a fresh candle in the window. She didn't seem to be aware that he was watching while she lit the candle then touched her fingers to the glass and quietly commanded, "The candles are burning, you two, now let them guide you home."

How did she find more faith than everyone else that Oreius was alive? How did she trust that both Oreius and Peter would escape Telmar? He didn't know, but shame crept into his heart as he realized he hadn't been nearly as trusting in Aslan's ability to protect both Oreius and Peter and bring them home. He silently withdrew from Kat's quarters and walked through the corridors, noting just how many candles were shining in the Cair's western windows.

He lost track of where he was walking until he found himself standing in the hall of remembrance in front of the display of broken blades. Gazing at the blades testifying to acts of great courage, he remembered all the times Peter had chased after him, hoping against hope that their enemies had left him alive long enough for Peter to rescue him. And he remembered those times when he had raced to save his big brother before it was too late. All those times had been challenging, yes, but the hardest thing he ever experienced was waiting. It was easy to trust that Aslan would keep Peter safe when Edmund himself was doing something, spearheading the effort to bring the great lummox home. But, waiting…it was so much more difficult to be unable to do anything to help bring Peter home and trust that Aslan will find some other way to bring his brother and maybe even Oreius back as well.

A box of candles caught Edmund's eye and he took out two candles. He stared at them, running his fingers over their waxy surfaces, until he noticed several soldiers entering the hall of remembrance. They bowed when they saw him. Edmund gestured toward the box, "Are you setting the candles in the western windows?"

One of the soldiers, a Satyr by the name of Pythian, bowed his head, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Edmund gave a curt nod as he set the two candles on the table then lifted the box, "All right then, let's get these set up and lighted." The soldiers didn't comment about the two candles he put aside or about his sudden decision to help in setting up and lighting all one hundred and ninety-eight candles that were in the box. Once again, Edmund thanked Aslan that Narnians were willing to accept their sovereigns as they were and even if they didn't always understand their actions.

Finally returning to his quarters, Edmund took the two candles he had set aside and placed them both in his parlor window. He took a lit taper and carefully lit the first candle, "Aslan with you, Peter. May this light guide you back home to us. And, please don't do anything too stupid." He lit the second candle and whispered, "Aslan with you, Oreius. May this light guide you back home…and bring Peter with you."

He stepped back and observed the cheery flames dancing in front of the window. Returning the taper to its proper place, Edmund looked at the candles again. "I'm sorry for not having as much faith as I should. Aslan, guide their steps. Give them Your strength and lead them through the traps of our enemies. Bring them home, Aslan. Just bring back my brother and the one who is as a father to us. And, Aslan, help me to wait upon You, Great Lion."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Yes, I know I'm prolonging the torture of the last chapter's cliffhanger, but I promise Peter and Oreius will be back next chapter and it will be another long one. Look for the next chapter on Monday. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: Wings like Eagles

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Additional Disclaimer: I'm not a herbalist or in any way associated with the medical profession. The treatments described in Kat's notes have NOT been approved by a doctor and while the research indicated they are a plausible way of Narnian medicine, they aren't meant to be taken as wound treatment advice, so if you have an infected wound from a poisoned dagger, don't follow these instructions. ;) The only advice of Kat's you should follow is the "If injured, go to a trained medical professional." Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Two: Wings like Eagles

Oreius frowned as he scanned the mountainous territory. Now that the mist had lifted, he knew they were still in Telmar and he had the terrible feeling that they had been going in circles. No, he had been going in circles. Peter had trusted him to get him out and back to Narnia and instead he had only managed to get them both lost. Two days spent wandering the wild regions of Telmar and he was no closer to finding the Sisemaalian border or any other way out than before.

Peter groaned and Oreius knelt beside his wounded colt. Crippled...and all because the reckless colt had been trying to protect _him_, to save the one who should have better protected him. He should have finished Rahzjin off immediately instead of trusting he was too wounded to be a true threat. How could he have let himself judge the situation so badly? And, now his king, his colt, was paying a very heavy price for his error. Peter groaned again, but he wasn't awake. "My King? Peter?" Oreius frowned as he noticed Peter was sweating. Touching his brow, Oreius inhaled sharply at the heat rolling off Peter's skin. A fever. There must have been some wound Oreius had missed. He carefully pulled up Peter's sweat-soaked tunic and found the wound. It was just to the left of his spine and barely below his ribcage. An infection had settled in, making the area around the wound an angry red while the wound itself wept a mix of blood and pus.

Oreius frowned. There must have been some poison on the blade that made the wound for it to look so ill so soon. He needed to clean the wound or at least wash it. Taking his nearly empty waterskin, Oreius carefully poured the water over the wound. He tightened his grip on Peter as the colt gasped and clenched his fists when the water touched his wound. "I'm sorry, Peter, but I have to do this."

He wished Alambiel were with them or any of the healers. They would know for certain what was wrong and what to do. Peter's wound didn't look much better when Oreius poured the last of the water over it. _Keep him hydrated, Kentauri. _Oreius quickly grabbed Peter's waterskin and shifted him so he could give him water. Peter swallowed once, twice, and then there wasn't any more water.

_No..._ Oreius took the two empty waterskins and stared at them dismally wondering how many times he had unknowingly walked right past a fresh spring or stream as he wandered through the mist these past few days. Grabbing their two packs, Oreius slung them over his back then he picked Peter up (being mindful of his wound). They were at a crossroads with five paths that might lead somewhere. Oreius didn't know which way would lead to water and to home. The third one or maybe the fifth one would be the right choice but there was nothing distinctive about any of the five paths that would aid in his choosing. To make it worse, he was certain that Peter would not have the time it would require for him to backtrack if he chose the wrong path. "Aslan, please help us. Guide us to water and to home."

The words had barely formed when Oreius heard an eagle's cry. Looking up, he stared in wonder at the huge Eagle overhead. It was much too large to be one of the dumb birds native to Telmar and it was bigger even than the Talking Eagles of home. The Eagle screamed again, but this time he heard the hint of a roar at the end. Aslan had answered. The Eagle swooped low over them once then He chose the second path, the one Oreius hadn't been considering. But, he didn't hesitate before galloping after the Eagle. He trusted only that the Eagle would lead them to water.

Peter's fever was climbing higher by the time Oreius entered a low valley. It felt as though he were carrying a human-sized furnace. Sweat soaked through Peter's tunic and plastered his hair against his temples. The sound of running water was a relief as Oreius picked his way down the rocky slope until he rounded the outcropping and saw the valley in full. The Eagle was perched on a rock beside a narrow mountain stream. Oreius carefully set Peter on the soft carpet of moss and formally bowed to the Eagle, "Thank you, My Lord."

Oreius wasted no time in refilling the waterskins and returning to Peter's side. The Eagle had moved to the lone tree whose leaves were just budding and was watching intently. Oreius hesitated, not knowing what to do to best help Peter, but then came the memory of Alambiel holding up a small book before tucking it into her healing kit and telling him that she'd written down instructions for caring for wounds and other injuries in terms simple enough that even he could manage should she be unable to help. Yes, of course. He grabbed Peter's pack and found that his King had indeed taken Alambiel's healing kit. Pulling the healing kit out, Oreius found the small book. Alambiel had included a table of contents and he flipped to "Infections and Fevers."

There was another smaller table of contents for the chapter and he quickly turned to "Infections from Poison – with Fever." Alambiel's handwriting was clear and legible. _If the wound is infected due to poison as opposed to neglect or poor initial treatment, take the wounded party and the source of the poison to a trained healer immediately if at all possible. If in a situation wherein no healer is accessible (as usually occurs when treating Peter, Edmund, and Oreius), use the poison testing kit (I have also included Oreius and Kings-proof instructions for how it works…do not lose them) then proceed with the 'Known Poison' section. However, if this is a worst-case scenario wherein you have no access to a trained healer and you do not have the poisoned weapon for any innumerable reason, skip forward twenty pages to the 'Unknown Poison' section._

Oreius snorted as he muttered, "Oreius and Kings-proof instructions, indeed." Peter moaned and Oreius hurried to find the "Unknown Poison." _A wound that has become infected due to an unknown poison is far more difficult to treat, particularly if a fever has set in. A more general treatment plan must be used instead of the targeted methods for known poisons. In my healing kit, look in the far left-hand pocket on the upper row of the left side. You should see a sea-green bottle with a silver stopper. MAKE SURE THERE IS AN ELDER BRANCH ETCHED INTO THE BACK OF THE VIAL'S NECK. Pull that out and set it aside. Now in the middle of the bottom row (on the same side where you found the elderberry tincture) you should find a square vial with a squat neck and a plain cork stopper. MAKE SURE THERE IS A YARROW FLOWER ETCHED INTO THE BACK OF THE VIAL. _

_Prepare a fire and heat some water until it is tolerably warm (tolerably, mind. You're not trying to scald anyone…if you don't really want to put YOUR hand in the water, it's too hot). Pour the warm water into a shallow bowl (use the little bowl I've tucked into the back of the healing kit if you have to), add three drops of the yarrow tincture (square vial with the squat neck) into the water, then rinse the wound. This should help disinfect the wound or at least keep the infection from getting any worse. Use the same procedure each day to clean the wound (preferably each time you change the dressing) and continue combatting the infection…the yarrow rinse will also help ease the pain._

_Now, for a basic poultice that will further draw out the infection and encourage healing, look in the right-hand pocket one in from the end of the bottom row on the right side of my healing kit. Pull out the small box with a rose carved into the lid. If you already used the shallow bowl for the yarrow rinse, use the second bowl for this next step. Create a paste by mixing the crushed rose leaves and twigs with some warm water and add a drop of the elderberry tincture as well. Pack the wound with this paste then wrap it securely with a dry cotton bandage. Change the dressing and clean out the wound then reapply twice a day. _

_For the fever, use some elderflower tea (I put a package in the pocket that is two over from where the box of crushed rose leaves and twigs is kept) and have the patient drink it. This should help bring down the fever or at least keep it from reaching a dangerous high. Use cool (not cold) clothes to help pull the heat to the surface. For Peter and Edmund, add some lavender oil (the narrow blue vial with a purple ribbon wrapped around the neck and a plain silver stopper in the middle of the upper row on the right side of my healing kit) to the cool water. This serves to soothe them best. If Oreius is the one with the fever, add thyme oil (twisted green vial with a plain cork stopper in the pocket to the left of the lavender oil) to the water. Place the cool cloths on the patient's forehead, neck, chest, and under the arms, changing them out when they grow warm and/or dry to the touch. _

_Keep the injured party hydrated with water and the herbal tea. Attempt to coax him into eating a broth if you can. If not, continue to use the water and herbal tea. (Do NOT give Edmund coffee, no matter how snarly he is, it will only dehydrate him further.) Above all, find your way to a trained healer as soon as possible._

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Oreius stifled the urge to yawn, to rest, as he knelt beside his colt's prone form. He could not rest, not now. Peter's fever seemed to be receding a little and he was no longer tossing his head and twitching his hands restlessly. The lavender oil did in fact help to soothe his agitation even in dreams. Oreius finished applying fresh damp cloths against Peter's armpits then stifled yet another yawn. He could not sleep tonight.

_Why?_

His duty required him to guard Peter and he had already failed him twice since coming to Telmar. He needed to keep watch.

_Why? Do I not see you, My son? Are not My eyes in every place, keeping watch on both My children and those who would harm you? _

Oreius looked up sharply and once again spied the Eagle who spread His great wings, causing a large shadow to fall over the colt and himself. Wings still spread wide, the Eagle held his gaze as the voice that had called him out of despair during the Long Winter and had issued orders during the Spring once again echoed in his thoughts. _I give you rest, Oreius, son of Narnia._

Peace filled him as he was reassured of their safety. For when Aslan kept watch, none could escape His great and terrible gaze. Oreius bowed his head, breathing a soft prayer of thanks. Weariness tugged at him and he no longer resisted. After all, how could he protect Peter properly if he never slept? Later, he was never certain if the low leonine chuckle he thought he heard on the tail of his last conscious thought had been real or part of the dream he slipped into as soon as he closed his eyes.

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Peter opened his eyes, staring blearily at the dark sky. The stars were very bright tonight…he wondered if Oreius was watching them (probably). He blinked once, twice, and then yawned before turning his head slightly. He froze, barely registering the folded cloth that fell off his forehead, as fear coiled in the pit of his stomach. Oreius was lying on the ground, almost as if he was sleeping, but Peter _knew_ that he wasn't asleep. He was dead. Peter had watched Rahzjin kill him with his own sword, with Rhindon. No…no, that was just a horrible dream. But, what if it wasn't?

Fear spurred him into action and he lunged up, only to immediately collapse on his side. Were his feet tied together? Peter looked down and fear transformed into panic for there were no bindings around his legs and feet. A faint, anguished whisper broke past his lips, "No. Oh please, no."

He licked his lips then forced the panic back down. It was a mistake. He was dreaming again, that was all. He just had to wake up and then his legs would be working and Oreius would be alive. Yes, he just had to wake up. Peter pinched himself hard on the arm, wincing slightly (since Edmund wasn't there to heckle him about reacting to a little pinch). He stared at his legs willing them to bend as he once again shoved himself upright and tried to take a step toward Oreius. But, he fell again, this time landing on his other side, causing a fiery lance of pain to blare to life. He bit his lip to keep from screaming at the sensation.

Horror filled him as he realized what everything that just happened meant…this wasn't a dream. This wasn't a dream, he couldn't move his legs and Oreius was… "NO! No, Aslan, please! Please don't let this be real! Please!"

Tears of pain and frustration filled his eyes, nearly blinding him before they escaped to roll down his cheeks, even as he shouted and tried once again to get his feet. He fell, scraping his chin against a stone, and let out an anguished howl before throwing his torso in the air, trying to gain enough momentum to jump to his feet. To wake himself up otherwise Oreius was dead and he couldn't even protect himself, much less his family. He struggled and shouted as something tried to hold him back, hold him down, and keep him here in this nightmare. "No! Please! It can't be real! It can't be real! I have to get up! Get up, Pevensie! You can't protect Ed and the girls if you don't get up! Please! Aslan!"

The cry of a Raptor sounded but it shifted mid-scream into a fierce leonine roar and Peter abruptly realized he was thrashing weakly against the iron arms of his General. The Centaur was holding him tightly in his grasp so all he could really do was toss his head and thrash his arms. "Peter. Peter, you are all right. It will be all right, I promise. No one is dead, Sire, save the fiend who put you through so much. Your brother and sisters are safe in Cair Paravel. They are safe, Peter. Do you hear me? They are safe and so are we.

Peter felt his cheeks flush a little as the embarrassing realization that he had been screaming and thrashing like a frightened child instead of acting like an adult, like Aslan's High King, slammed into him. He stilled, but he couldn't quite rid himself of the quaver in his voice as he asked, "Oreius?"

"Aye, my King, it is I. Now, Wolfsbane, regulate your breathing."

Peter automatically slipped into the breathing exercise that Oreius had drilled into him and Edmund starting with their first training session before Beruna. He hadn't minced his words as to what would happen if they lost their heads and panicked in battle, an understandable reaction but an unacceptable one. Peter closed his eyes but the image of his weeping sisters and Edmund's still form flashed against the darkness and he opened his eyes with a gasp.

"Steady. Breathe. Your family is safe. Your dreams lie to you, Peter. Do not listen." Peter nodded silently as he clung to the Centaur's steady and honest voice. Oreius wouldn't lie to him. Finally, his breathing calmed completely and Peter managed to gulp down some of the cold water Oreius held in front of his lips. The Centaur had pulled back so he was still propping Peter up, but no longer holding him a vise-like grip. He studied his face for a long time before he spoke, "You must lay back down and try to rest. Alambiel's healing notes indicated that you shouldn't do much to aggravate your wounds and if you overdo things, you must rest for as long as possible."

Peter licked his lips while a little tendril of fear began to bloom once more as he forced the question he dreaded the answer to out. "Do you know why I cannot feel my legs, cannot move them?"

Oreius shook his head, "I do not know for certain, my King. I believe it is an effect of the fall, but you need to be examined by someone with more expertise than a soldier who possesses only the rudimentary knowledge of field medicine. Leave it for now, Peter, rest."

He didn't have much of a choice as the Centaur lowered him back to the ground then placed a damp cloth on his forehead again. Funny how he hadn't even realized that he was all hot and sweaty until the cool cloth touched his skin. Still, he managed to form one last protest, "What about taking turns at watch?"

Oreius shook his head again, but this time a faint smile appeared (or maybe it was just the shadows playing across his face) as he gently answered. "Do not fret, Peter, the One who stands watch misses nothing and He will not let us be caught unawares. Now, rest."

Peter thought about protesting again but his mind was becoming lethargic and his lids heavy with sleep. He inhaled deeply and smiled slightly as he caught the scent of lavender. It reminded him of Susan, no, not Susan…someone else who used to sing softly and ever so slightly off key when she would tuck him in bed as a child. She was soft and smelled like lavender. She looked like a lot like Susan, no, that was backwards, Susan looked a lot like her…like Mum. He could see her now as he used to when she would hold him close whenever he was sick and the scent of lavender wrapped around him just like her arms. Peter inhaled once more and then let sleep claim, but now his dreams were no longer filled with terror but the tender, almost-forgotten love of his mother.

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28 Lenisgale 1007

Peter groaned as he woke to a pounding headache and a lot of stiffness in his neck and shoulders. He pried his eyes open, feeling a rather strong kinship with the Bears who are awakened during their hibernation…and Edmund at sunrise. He managed to lever himself up onto his elbows.

A large hand appeared in front of his eyes, holding a waterskin, "Drink."

He blinked once then shakily took the waterskin. As soon as the cool water hit his tongue, he drank greedily until Oreius gently pulled the waterskin out of his grasp, "Not so much at once, Wolfsbane. You will make yourself ill."

Peter licked his lips then wiped his forehead, feeling the sweat that had gathered there, "Aren't I already?"

Silence was his only answer and he looked over to see Oreius watching him with a very solemn expression. Actually, there was a lot more concern in those dark eyes than he had seen in a long while. "Oreius?" He remembered abruptly waking up terrified and thrashing and being…being unable to feel his legs. "Oreius, I'm sorry."

The Centaur frowned, "Sorry? Why?"

Shame crept to the fore as Peter hung his head, "For my reaction, I should have paid attention to my surroundings. I should have kept my head, I just-"

He cut himself off as Oreius' large hand engulfed his shoulder and squeezed, "You were in pain and you have been subjected to harrowing events, to torture for over a week. Your reaction was natural. I have seen veteran soldiers with over a hundred years of experience break down under lesser torment. What have I taught you and your brother? It is not weakness to experience fear and panic. It is only a weakness when you do nothing to counteract those reactions when you are able to do so." The Centaur squeezed his shoulder again, "You have done nothing to be ashamed of, Peter."

Peter looked up and Oreius nodded as he helped him to sit up fully, back braced against the slim trunk of a tree. "Oreius, what does Kat's book of General and Kings-proof Healing Instructions say about not being able to feel one's legs?"

The Centaur snorted, "Sepphora's habit of amusing herself by picking nonsensical titles remains intact." He fell silent for a moment then continued, "Alambiel's notes indicate that it will be best if I get you back to a healer as fast as possible."

"I can't walk."

Oreius gave him almost the exact same look he had nearly eight years ago when Peter had asked if he was with him at Beruna. There was a long silence, then Oreius said in the same "Why did you even ask?" tone that he had used at Beruna, "I will carry you."

And, just as he had years ago, Peter couldn't find the words for an appropriate response, only this time he did not have a battle to distract from the awkward silence. Instead, Oreius narrowed his eyes at him and reached toward a simmering pot. "You must eat."

Peter grinned slightly as Oreius poured some sort of broth into a bowl then handed it to him, "Yes, Susan."

The General gave him a stern look, but there was just a hint of a smirk too. He gestured toward the bowl, "Eat as much as you can and then we will leave this place."

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30 Lensigale 1007

The rain had been pouring all day, but it was finally slowing. Oreius peered up at the gray sky, searching for the Eagle who had been silently guiding him through the mountainous maze, but He was nowhere in sight. A low moan and agitated muttering behind him pulled Oreius' attention back to his colt. Peter was lying under the relative shelter of a shelf jutting out over the cluster of giant boulders Oreius had found a little bit ago. Leaning down, Oreius felt Peter's forehead again. His skin felt even hotter than it had last night when Peter had been unable to keep down the broth Oreius had made with a brace of rabbits the Eagle had provided.

Peter moaned again, but when he opened his eyes, Oreius knew he did not see him. The colt's fever bright eyes looked beyond him as he muttered, "Sorry. Sorry. I messed up, sorry." He reached out a trembling hand, "N-no, please, don't go away. Stay here, you have to stay here, we need you. I need you, can't do this by myself. I'll mess up again."

Oreius grabbed his hand and gently forced Peter to lower it again as he shushed him. The colt's reaction seemed to grow worse though as he thrashed his arms and tossed his head, a low whimper escaping even as Oreius tried to calm him. Perhaps he should simply attempt to build a fire near Peter and see if there was not some additional suggestions for combatting the fever in Alambiel's book of healing notes. The wood he had gathered at the last little valley they'd come through was a little damp, but not so much that it wouldn't hold a flame. He reached for the wood but stopped and instead grabbed the healing kit when Peter let out a soft cry. He needed to bring the fever down first, finding a clean cloth and that vial of lavender oil, Oreius held the cloth outside the shelf's shelter, allowing the rain to dampen it, and then he added three drops of the lavender oil to the center of the cloth.

Placing the cloth on Peter's forehead, Oreius watched for any signs that it was helping. The colt was still thrashing but it wasn't as violent as before. _Please, Aslan, ease this for him._ Peter moaned quietly and muttered something but his words were slurred to the point that Oreius couldn't make it out. He froze when he heard something approaching the overhead shelf…the sound of metal, of armored men. Telmarine soldiers.

Peter moaned and Oreius desperately shushed him at the same time he prayed the sound of the rain would be enough to keep the Telmarine's human sense from detecting them. Counting the paces, Oreius estimated at least sixty soldiers were currently marching along the mountain path overhead. Too many to fight when Peter was so vulnerable. The call of another unit echoed through the rain and Oreius' heart sank further. This was no scouting party; it was a full troop, divided into sixty to seventy-man sections.

Peter stirred restlessly, the cloth falling off his forehead, as he began to mutter again, "No, no, don't leave. Please don't leave us, I can't protect them by myself. I can't…I can't."

Oreius shushed him then carefully laid his hand over his mouth as the Telmarines continued marching overhead. The colt immediately began to thrash harder, leaving Oreius with no choice but to immobilize the colt by pulling him upright so his back was against his chest while he gently restrained his arms. He could hear stamping boots and curses that were only slightly muffled by the rain. Peter attempted to thrash and Oreius lowered his head to whisper, "Hush, Peter, hush, you are not alone. You're safe. Be still, you must be still and quiet."

The colt stilled slightly just as sunlight managed to break through the clouds, casting the shadows of three Telmarine soldiers up against the far wall of the ravine. Oreius tensed as he listened to the three sets of boots come closer to the edge of the shelf, if they heard Peter and looked down, he wouldn't be able to get the colt to safety. Peter thrashed weakly and Oreius carefully tightened his grip as he lowered his voice further, whispering to him, trying to calm him.

The shadows of the Telmarines were still clear and Oreius could hear them speaking as they stopped almost directly overhead.

"Someone should tell the great commander that risking the ghosts' wrath will not help keep the men's spirits under fair sails."

Oreius watched as the tallest of the three shadows shoved the bulky one before a sharper voice spat, "And muttering about the superstitions of old women won't keep your head on your shoulders. The Lords of Council said we must patrol the border with Sisemaal, so that is what we will do. The men must go where they are commanded, as must you."

The bulky shadow shoved back but then short, slender shadow stepped between the other two and a very young voice spoke up, "If the great commander learns you two have been fightin' again, he'll leave you both staked out for the buzzards to eat."

The tallest shadow struck the young one, "Be quiet. Being his nephew doesn't earn _my_ deference."

The bulky shadow barked a harsh laugh, "Not when he's not around to see how you act in any case."

Peter stirred and moaned loudly enough that it almost carried over the rain and Oreius' muffling hand. Oreius tensed as the three Telmarines stopped bickering and the tallest shadow loomed larger on the far wall of the ravine, which matched the sound of one pair of boots coming closer to the edge. _My Lord Aslan, hide us from the eyes of our enemies. Shield us from discovery._

He held Peter tighter as he kept his hand over the colt's mouth. The tallest shadow stopped close to the edge of the shelf, if he looked down… He could see the shadow start to contort as its owner began to lean so he could look over the edge. _Aslan._ The young voice belonging to the Telmarine with the short, slender shadow called out, "What is it? What was that noise?"

The tallest shadow abruptly straightened and struck at the younger Telmarine, "Silence. I can't find out if there's something down there if you make more noise than a colony of seals. If there's encroaching enemies, then we'll have an excuse to invade Sisemaal instead of just patrolling the border looking for some nonsensical beasts and other freaks."

A horn sounded, high and shrill, and the tallest Telmarine cursed before his shadow and his footsteps finally retreated. The rain was worsening but the sunlight hadn't been hidden yet. The Telmarine with the bulky shadow and gravelly voice snorted loudly, "Never mind him, he's sore because Prima's husband came home early and he had to come with us to keep himself from being hooked and gutted."

Their footsteps began retreating and Oreius eased his grip on Peter's mouth for the colt was now limp and most likely unconscious. He was mistaken. Peter moaned loudly. Oreius clamped his hand back over Peter's mouth, but it was too late. The shadows had stopped retreating.

The younger Telmarine took a step back toward the edge of the shelf just before the sunlight faded. Oreius strained to hear over the rain. Another step toward the edge. "Did you hear that?"

A nervous tremor enter the other man's gravelly voice as he replied, "No. And neither did you."

"But, what if-?"

"No, the living should not seek the ghosts. Anzu drive wind into the sails of their soul ships so they may reach the Eyrie. There we have blessed you, now let us be! Come on before the ghosts seek to claim us for trespassing through these mountains. Come on and remember we heard nothing!"

The men's footsteps finally retreated from the edge of the shelf, mingling with the steady marching of the rest of the Telmarine troop. Oreius kept Peter quiet as he listened to the Telmarines marching overhead. If these soldiers were just an addition to the troops already patrolling the border with Sisemaal, it would be impossible to escape by going north and then east. Somehow, they would need to find a different route out of Telmar and now he knew he must watch for more enemy troops in the area.

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Oreius scrutinized the colt's face, trying to determine if he looked worse than he had earlier. The storm had increased again once the Telmarine troop had finally vanished further into the mountains, but Oreius had felt he had no choice but to move Peter. He couldn't take the chance that another troop might pass by or that the suspicious soldier might send a scout to inspect the area. It had taken him two hours and the guidance of the Eagle to find a new shelter, one big enough that Oreius could also get out of the rain. Once again, the Eagle had provided a brace of rabbits, but Peter still could not keep the broth down and his skin felt hotter.

Using the fresh rainwater Oreius had collected in bowls, he once again followed the instructions Alambiel had written down to clean out Peter's wound and to cool him off. Peter's unconscious whimpers and barely audible cries had made the task difficult, though Oreius still hadn't decided whether it was worse to clean Peter's wound out when he was unconscious or conscious. In truth, they were both equally difficult for, no matter Peter's state of consciousness, there was nothing he could do to prevent Oreius from inflicting pain. It was necessary pain, but it was still not a task Oreius liked.

He feared that he had made some sort of error when he had attempted to follow Alambiel's instructions, that he had somehow diluted the solutions that were supposed to ease the pain and lessen the fever. He was not a healer…and who Peter needed were the trained healers, preferably Alithia, Tuulea, or Alambiel. Oreius rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the anxiety he felt not only for his colt but also for his Alambiel. Peter had said she was alive, but…but reading the words she had written only served to remind him that he didn't know for certain that she was safe, that she was well. He would not have wished her to experience the Shark's treatment or be in danger of being burned as a witch. But now, with Peter's condition worsening, he wished she was present, that she had met up with them somewhere in this maze of mountains, gently scolding and teasing to raise their spirits.

Oreius lightly touched the script that slanted prettily across the page, praying that wherever she was, Alambiel was safe and out of harm's way. If she and the rest of their party had left Sisemaal not long after Peter had returned to Telmar, then they should be nearing Narnia by now. He hoped that was so, and then the irrational hope that Alambiel would write him another one of her letters also came to the fore, but he pushed it aside. It was too distracting.

He carefully wrapped the book in its element proof covering. He didn't dare risk the chance of water damage. Oreius checked once more on Peter, but the colt was sleeping deeply. Almost eight years a king, almost twenty and one years of age, and yet he was still so young in Oreius' eyes. The Sons of Adam mature faster than Centaur colts, he knew that, but it was difficult at times to accept. He could remember marveling and worrying over the young ages of their prophesied rulers, these young foals who were to be Aslan's instruments in ridding Narnia of Jadis. He also remembered arranging ways for the Four to feel unwatched (though they were never unguarded), so the older three in particular could relax and simply be children. They had to grow up quickly, Susan and Peter especially, but he had done what he could to help their collective small shoulders bear the burden. And he had been very grateful when first Alambiel and then Tarrin Peridanson provided other means by which his foals could still remember to be foals…even if that did occasionally lead to his armory being in a state of disrepair.

Oreius changed the now-dry cloths for cool ones and brushed Peter's sweat-soaked hair away from his face, feeling more than a little relieved when the lavender-scented cloth proved to ease the colt somewhat. He may not be the Four's father by blood, but he truly did not think he could love those foals who were his by blood more than the four foals who were already his by his heart's reckoning. Alambiel's words from the night when she had reminded him of how he was not alone had included Peter and his siblings…what had been unspoken but clearly understood was the fact that Oreius would never be alone for he had Aslan. He knew that and believed it, but he was also grateful that the Great Lion had provided him a new family born of the heart.

Peter's breathing deepened and Oreius picked up the wrapped book, but this time he put it into his own travel pack instead of Peter's. He was about to close the flap when something caught his eye. A letter that he didn't remember putting in his pack. Pulling it out, he recognized the script as Alambiel's. For a moment he frowned, but then his face cleared as he recalled Alambiel being the one who was transferring the critical and other diplomatic documents from his and Peter's packs to her saddlebags. They had been arguing in Irish about Alambiel's increased unease and why she was so anxious…he had told Peter to let her move the diplomatic packets to appease her (he would have to apologize to Alambiel for not heeding her warnings), so she must have slipped the letter in when she had been moving the packets.

_Oreius,_

_It's the fourth of the month, so we've been courting for five months now. Of course, since we're still stuck in Telmar's capital, no date, but at least I remembered…_

_I did mean to finish this note and slip it to you on the same day, but things didn't work out quite how I'd planned. Well, things didn't work out the way we planned for anything over the last couple of days, did they? Since we are planning to let ourselves out of the city in an hour and a half (don't even think about scolding me for not sleeping, Kentauri). _

_Thank you for tolerating my silly fears during these last few days, Kentauri. I can see you sleeping by the fireplace, so I won't wake you, but I want you to know that everything I said that night on our way here was true. You are not alone and I am not alone. We have been given each other, but we've also been given the Four (although I'm pretty sure I'm more along the lines of the crazy aunt no one wants to admit to being related to than a surrogate mom…most of the time anyway). But, you Oreius, you are most certainly the very much needed surrogate father for the Four, and especially for Peter who tries too hard at times to be the parent for his brother and sisters. I love that about you. _

_I am not tempting Murphy, but I cannot shake the bad feeling I have about Kazimierz and Tuanka too (he has been TOO accommodating to us). If something should happen and we become separated, know that I trust you to find a way home. If Peter is with you, bring him home. If I'm with you…put this letter down and pretend you never read it. _

_If Peter is with you and he is injured, don't blame yourself, Oreius. I know how you get when you can't protect the people you care about, but you should follow your own advice to Peter and Edmund and even sometimes me. Put the blame on the shoulders of those who committed the atrocity or caused the atrocity to be committed, not yourself. Blame the ones truly responsible and then see what you can do to alleviate the damage. If Peter is injured, Kentauri, just bring him home. _

_Don't forget you have a good reason to return home, Oreius. Love you._

_Alambiel_

Oreius traced Alambiel's signature twice before he finally folded her letter and slipped it back into the envelope. He simply held the envelope for a long while before he tucked it safely into the inner pocket of his travel pack. He had needed it, needed the clear reminder that Alambiel often provided him. She had written the letter before knowing they would be in this situation, before knowing Peter would be so ill, and her words were what he needed. _Bring Peter home and bring myself home. Return as I promised. _Oreius nodded to himself. It was a simple goal, but the simplest goals could be the most motivational. After checking on Peter once more, Oreius settled down for the night and fell asleep to the echo of Alambiel's words and an Eagle's comforting cry.

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32 Lenisgale 1007

Peter licked his lips before he lifted the spoon, trying not to be too frustrated at how the trembling in his hands caused half the broth to spill before he could get the spoon to his mouth. The broth was probably delicious, but still he struggled to find the desire to eat. When he had tried to protest eating, Oreius had merely arched an eyebrow as he pointedly gave him a choice between feeding himself or… Peter decided to feed himself.

He tried to cross his ankles, but nothing happened. Peter lowered the spoon as he frowned at his immobile feet. _Useless._ _A liability._ The words weighed on his mind like the heaviest of judgments. A High King, a warrior who would only be able to fight off his enemies if they happened to walk by so he could slash their knees. Faugh, what a joke he was.

"My King? Peter?"

Peter jerked his head up to meet Oreius' concerned gaze. The Centaur frowned a little as he peered at his face, "Are you feeling worse?"

Peter mutely shook his head and then forced himself to down two spoonfuls of the broth. Something he almost immediately regretted when his stomach flopped. Fortunately, he didn't lose his meal this time, but considering the way Oreius had relieved him of the bowl, he wasn't going to be required to eat any more.

There was a rustling of wings overhead, but when Peter looked up, he couldn't see the source of the noise due to the clouds adding to the pre-dawn gloom. Oreius, however, barely paid the sound the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he continued to watch Peter closely, "Are you certain you are feeling well?"

Peter gave a curt nod, "Yes."

"Very well, then I must change the dressing on your wound." Peter felt dismay and dread flash through him at the thought of enduring the painful process that involved. He must not have hidden it very well since Oreius gave him an apologetic look, "I am sorry, Peter, but it is necessary. You were extremely ill two days ago and I fear any delay in changing the dressing might put your health in dangerous territory."

_Don't be weak, Pevensie._ Peter set his jaw and gave a curt nod, "I know, Oreius. Let's get it over with so we can get out of here."

As Oreius set out the healing supplies, Peter pulled off his shirt. At least, he could still do that on his own. He shivered as the cold bite of the wind caused goose bumps to form. Glancing at the General, he nodded. Oreius unwrapped the bandages and Peter bit his lip as fire lanced through his side and back, completely distracting him from the cold. _Don't scream, that'll bring who knows how many enemies down on us. Don't be weak this time. _The Centaur's hand clamped on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, as Oreius promised, "I will make this as swift as possible."

Peter groaned as the warm water poured over his wound. It was necessary. It was necessary. He dug his fingers into his bundled shirt, twisting it into knots, as Oreius rinsed the wound again. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, but it barely distracted from the pain when Oreius packed the wound with the paste. A low whimper escaped him as tears filled his vision. Fortunately, he managed to swipe his shirt across his eyes before the tears escaped. No, he couldn't show weakness. He needed to be strong and he couldn't make any noise that would bring unwanted attention.

Finally, Oreius finished wrapping his wound with a fresh cotton bandage. The Centaur reached to help him pull his shirt back on, but Peter leaned away from his hand. Oreius didn't say a word as he dropped his hand and began putting away the healing supplies. Peter choked back a cry of agony as his wound pulled painfully and he felt something start to seep. Ugh, he could only hope it was the healing paste instead of blood. He managed to tug his shirt down, hiding any stains before Oreius turned around from where he was carefully putting away the vials he'd used.

The Centaur knelt beside him and Peter saw sympathy. He did not want sympathy. He didn't want to be pitied. He looked away from Oreius, working to get his emotions under control. "Peter, I am sorry that I have caused you pain, but when we reach Cair Paravel, the healers will be able to help you. And even if they cannot provide a resolution, your sister's cordial will be able to-"

_No!_ Oreius cut himself off and Peter realized that he had spoken his objection aloud. But, he twisted to face the Centaur, his heart pounding as he ground his teeth together than snapped, "I will not take the cordial. I'll issue a royal order if I have to, but I will not take it! If you and the rest of Narnia cannot bear the thought of a cripple for High King, then you have a problem. But, I don't care. I won't take the cordial. I won't put my family at risk. I won't!"

He scowled as he continued in the same snappish tone, "Besides, we probably will never live to get out of Telmar. Not with those soldiers on patrol. You could, of course. Just leave me behind and you can get back to Narnia. You were the better protector before this all happened…even more so now that I'm worse than useless. If you want to leave, then do so."

Oreius surged to his feet, flicking his tail in obvious agitation. But, the Centaur didn't respond the way Peter had expected, the rebuke that revealed how burdening his presence was, the berating he had braced himself for did not come. Instead, Oreius merely clenched his fists and bowed stiffly, "I will refill the waterskins then we may leave this place." Then the General walked away, pausing only to remove Kat's dagger from his pack, which he silently handed to him, and to pick up the waterskins. Peter watched him move along the mountain stream until he could barely see him. He wouldn't take the cordial. He didn't deserve or need the cordial, not really, not when his decisions were the reason for his broken back.

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Oreius stamped his hoof once, twice, thrice then started pacing along the edge of the stream. Leave? Leave his King, leave his _colt_ when he was wounded? Was he now some dishonorable mercenary or Fell that he would abandon the wounded to die out here from the elements or wild beasts or enemies or the infection? Caring only for himself?

He slammed his hoof against the ground even harder than before as his irritation once again threatened to overwhelm him. Oreius picked up a thick branch and snapped it in two before throwing both pieces as far down the valley as he could. It had taken more than he cared to admit to resist speaking harshly to the colt. A cripple…his back could be healed and even if it were not, Narnia would not abandon her High King simply because he could no longer walk under his own power. Oreius would not abandon him no matter how foolish he thought the decision to refuse the cordial for he was his colt and his Aslan-appointed king.

After all, Narnia was not Calormen or Telmar where any person of power who was so wounded could be certain of their doom at the hands of enemies and family alike or even Sisemaal and Archenland where having the king so wounded would create an unwelcome vulnerability. Narnia would not turn against or away from Peter and there was no need for the High King to think himself useless. If there was truly nothing to be done for his legs, Oreius would make sure that the healers found a way to help the High King remain as active as possible and he would keep Peter involved in army decisions. After all, between King Edmund and himself, the battlefront would be taken care of and Peter's strategic skills could still be further honed. He would adjust Peter's training to help build up the strength of his arms and upper body, which would counteract the inability to use his legs.

But that was only if there was nothing to be done… Of course, if Peter refused to take the cordial, made a royal order to prevent the cordial from being given, then Oreius would have to find a way to convince him otherwise. He grimly noted that one sure way to convince Peter to take the cordial would be if one or all of his siblings were in danger, but he would rather not have to rely on such a risky and extreme tactic. Oreius stopped pacing as a new thought struck him. Perhaps, it would only take the healers ridding Peter of the fever and infection. Yes, he had witnessed and experienced how a fever could affect one's judgment. If it were the fever, then once it was banished from his body, his colt would once again be more reasonable in regards to the rest of his healing.

Oreius nodded to himself, his irritation subsiding as he decided it was most likely the high fever that had instigated Peter's foolish stubbornness and irrational assumptions. However, he would allow the colt to think the entire matter, including his words, over, instead of confronting him right away. The scream of a Raptor cut through the air and Oreius wheeled around. The Eagle rose high in the sky, giving another warning cry. _Peter!_

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Peter stared at the worn leather sheathing Kat's blade. He had stopped watching Oreius after the Centaur disappeared from view. Maybe Oreius had left, maybe he wasn't going to come back. He deserved to be left here… Something rustled overhead and Peter looked up, "Oreius?"

It wasn't the General. Instead, a skinny, crazed-looking Werewolf was crouched on the boulder only ten feet away from him and he couldn't crawl away. He could see more Fell looming in the background. Unsheathing the gleaming dagger, Peter vaguely heard an Eagle scream as the Werewolf leapt toward him. _Aslan, help me. _

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Dun dun duuuuuun! Yes, another evil cliffie and yes, I'm prolonging your torment, but it's for the story. I was going to post this on Monday, but my real life schedule is going to be very busy next week, so early post. This does mean there will be no chapter on Monday, however I hope this monster chapter is long enough to tide everyone over until I can get the next chapter up. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.**


	23. Chapter TwentyThree: Of Fathers and Sons

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic trip to Telmar. They had been guaranteed safe passage. It was all a lie.

A/N: If you have not read the first five stories in the _A Light in the Darkness_ main story arc (_Awakening, Shadowed,_ _Revealed, Concealed, and Rekindled_), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of Fathers and Sons

Peter threw himself to the side, gasping as the wound to his back reacted with a blinding flash of pain. The Werewolf snarled in frustration when he landed on the other side of Peter. Ignoring the searing pain radiating from his back, Peter rolled to his other side, facing the Werewolf as he raised Kat's dagger. The Werewolf bared his teeth in a gruesomely macabre attempt at a smile, "Man-flesh! Eat you, Son of Adam. Eat you!" Peter reached out and slashed a deep line across the Werewolf's outstretched arm.

Thank Aslan, Kat was meticulous about keeping her knives sharp. The Werewolf fell back, snarling as he cradled his injured arm. He bared his teeth and jibbered before words finally formed, "Eat you, Son of Adam! So hungrrrry. Eat you!"

A screech sounded from behind Peter and he twisted in time to see a Ghoul rush toward him, wielding a crude spear. The Werewolf howled in rage as he leapt for Peter and tackled the Ghoul, snapping its neck. "Man-flesh mine! Mine!" Another Ghoul charged and the Werewolf snarled as its crude spear dug into his shoulder.

Still gripping Kat's dagger, Peter pulled himself backwards away from the fighting Werewolf and Ghoul. His legs were useless deadweight and he feared the Fell would notice his attempt to get away before he could form an accurate defense. Peter bit his lip, refusing to scream from the pain radiating in waves from his wound. He had to get to some place more defensible, he had to- His back hit something solid, bumpy, and thick…and smelly. _Oh no._ Peter craned his head back and met the beady gaze of an Ogre.

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Claymore drawn, Oreius didn't slow when he saw his colt literally at the feet of an Ogre. Lowering his sword as he charged, Oreius slammed full tilt into the Ogre, toppling the Fell creature to the ground as his blade punched through skin and muscle to pierce the Ogre's heart. Peter cried out and Oreius scrambled back up, wrenching his claymore free then wheeling around.

A pair of Harpies were fighting to drag the colt away. Fortunately, their fighting was distracting them from Peter's movements and his own. Peter slashed at one of Harpies forcing it back. Oreius charged, "Down!"

The colt flattened himself against the ground and Oreius leapt over him, slicing through one Harpy's wing. The Harpy fell back hissing and cursing as its useless wing dragged on the ground, smearing the rocks with streaks of black blood. The other Harpy was in the air, circling, waiting for another opportunity to attack. A Harpy on the ground, another in the air. Normally, Oreius would have said it was the Harpy capable of airborne attacks that was the more dangerous of the two, but since the High King was unable to move…

The Harpy circling overhead screeched a vile laugh and dove toward Peter. It managed to grab Peter's arm, dragging him upright as the colt cried out and vainly tried to gather enough strength to cut the Fell creature. Oreius reared up, extending his reach as he slashed at the Harpy's outstretched legs, but his strike fell short. A gust of wind filled the Harpy's wings, adding to its lift and Peter let out an agonized shout. The Eagle screamed from somewhere overhead and the Harpy cringed, flapping its wings erratically and losing altitude as its thoughts turned from hunting to fleeing. It dropped Peter the short distance to the ground and Oreius leapt over his disoriented colt, seizing the chance to bury his claymore in the Fell's ribcage.

Oreius didn't have time to remove his sword, much less check on Peter, before the Harpy he had wounded earlier threw itself at him, tangling up his front legs as it hissed. Oreius stumbled twice as the Harpy raked its filthy clawed feet down the inside of his left front leg. Unable to kick his way free of the Harpy's entangling wings, he grasped its head as it darted in, mouth opened wide, to bite and twisted viciously, snapping the Harpy's neck. A snarl from behind caught his attention and Oreius' eyes widened as horror wrapped around him and squeezed until the very breath in his body seemed to vanish. The Werewolf was on top of Peter's prone form, its head tucked by his neck and it's shoulders were still moving. _No. Aslan, no, don't let this be._

Kicking his way free of the Harpy's wings, Oreius raced to Peter, swords drawn but the Werewolf didn't move, not even to snarl. Sheathing his swords, he reached down and grabbed the Werewolf by the back of its neck. The jaws hung slack with its pink tongue lolling out between the sharp teeth. Dead. It was dead. Oh thank Aslan, it was dead. Oreius spotted Alambiel's dagger buried to the hilt in the Werewolf's throat. He wrenched the blade free then tossed the Werewolf over by the bodies of the other Fell.

Lowering himself to the ground, Oreius set down the dagger and carefully laid a hand on Peter's forehead. "Peter. Peter, can you hear me? Are you injured? My King? Peter?"

Looking around the area now marked by death, the Centaur General desperately wished Alambiel were with them. Peter needed to be checked for further injuries and wounds needed to be tended, but not here, not now. Rising, Oreius scanned the area for any more Fell but it seemed that for the moment the Fell were no longer a problem. Instead, there was a far more pressing matter at hand. Oreius hurried to fetch his claymore and clean it along with Alambiel's dagger before stowing them both away. He picked up his colt's limp body and carried him downstream to where he had left the waterskins. Nevertheless, other than to retrieve the waterskins, Oreius didn't dare stay in the area.

The Eagle's massive shadow overtook him as he raced through the mountain paths, following gullies and valleys that formed around the mountain streams. He stopped in one narrow valley long enough to tend to his and Peter's wounds. The colt's poisoned wound had been agitated during the struggle with the Fell, but other than a knot on the back of his head and some scratches along his neck and collarbones from the Werewolf and a gouge to the inside of his left arm from the Harpy there was naught else wrong. His own injuries were merely shallow gashes and scratches.

Picking the still-unconscious colt back up, Oreius followed the Eagle as the great Bird led him through valleys full of shadows and more than once guided him around the only apparent path, which often had signs of Fell inhabitation. He glanced down at the High King. His sweaty brow and hair and somewhat drawn appearance only served to make him look even younger than he was. Tightening his grip slightly, Oreius leapt up to a higher ledge, trusting that the Eagle would lead him true.

Dusk had come and gone by the time the Eagle lighted in the branches of a pine tree that grew tall beside the rushing mountain stream. Oreius could feel none of his own weariness, indeed, all he felt was concern for the colt. Laying him down at the base of the tree, Oreius watched with growing dismay as Peter continued to remain agitated and restless even though he was not truly conscious of his surroundings. Making some broth, he attempted to coax the High King into eating, but Peter merely moaned before turning to the side and losing what little broth he had swallowed. Oreius cleaned him up then held a cup of cool water against Peter's lips, "Peter, you must drink this, it will help. Drink. There, that's it. Good. Drink a little more, my colt, just a little more. Good. Good." Placing a lavender-scented cloth on Peter's forehead, Oreius waited until the High King settled into a somewhat restful sleep before he pulled out Alambiel's book of healing notes again. Perhaps he had missed something that would be helpful…

By dawn, Peter seemed ever so slightly better since he managed to keep down the broth Oreius gave him, but he was still feverish and uncommunicative when he did open his eyes. Oreius suspected he was once again caught in the fever dreams, a suspicion that seemed to pan out when Peter began thrashing as he carried him. Oreius automatically tightened his grip on the colt, causing him to cry out softly, but he didn't dare let go since there was a sheer drop not even a full foot to his right. Instead, he tried to wake his colt, "Peter. Wake up, Peter. It is only dream, I promise. Wake up. Calm down, my colt. It is only a dream. Do not listen to those lies. You are safe and your family is safe. Peter…"

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_"Peter…" _

_He opened his eyes only to immediately close them again as the sun blinded him. Rubbing his hands over his face, he opened his eyes just a crack. Yes, that was better. Blinking, he sat up. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the warm, fine granules of sand. Scooping a handful up, he watched as the sand drained through his fingers in an almost mesmerizing manner. The wind picked up, making his loose, unlaced tunic flap and billow as the wind caught at the fabric, filling it for a moment then abandoning it to dance along the beach, making the sand swirl. Peter smiled as he watched the surf almost touch his bare feet before receding. He pulled his feet back before the next wave could cover them before he stood, dusting off the seat of his pants. Stretching his arms high above his head, he idly wondered who it was that had awakened him from his nap. Probably Susan-_

_"Peter…" No, that…that was not Susan's voice. It didn't even sound female. The whispered call came again, "Peter…" _

_Definitely a male voice. "Who's there?" He spun around but no one was on the beach save him. He looked up, but he couldn't see his Tigers or any other guards. He frowned, "Who's out here? Are you hurt? I can help you, but you have to come out where I can see you. Hello?"_

_"Peter…"_

_There. It came from further down the beach, near the shadowy stretch of sand below the cliffs. "Peter…" Unheeding of the surf and the wet sand clinging to soles of his bare feet, Peter jogged toward the area where the voice seemed to originate. "Peter…"_

_He paused in front of the yawning aperture of a cave. "Hello? Are you in there? Can you come out? I cannot help you if I cannot see you. Hello? Are you hurt? How do you know my name?"_

_"Peter…" For a brief moment, the voice sounded stronger and slightly familiar, but then it faded again. Peter hesitated at the cave entrance. He could almost hear Oreius' lectures about entering a cave after an unknown individual when he wasn't armed or even wearing his boots. "Peter…" Again the voice sounded vaguely familiar before it receded into the cave like a dying echo. And he walked into the cave, allowing the darkness to swallow him…_

_He could see nothing and reached his hands forward, hoping to touch a cave wall or something that would allow him to regain his bearings. The sand beneath his bare toes was cold. He shivered as the thin fabric of his loose tunic proved less than suited to keeping the cool air of the cave away from his skin. His fingers bumped against something, a…a door? Peter frowned and felt again, but that was definitely a door handle. Grasping the handle, which turned easily at his touch, Peter opened the door and took a step._

_He stood in middle of a house that was familiar in the way things were in a dream or a long-buried memory. Walking over to the wall, Peter stared at the pictures. There was Edmund and Lucy and Susan and…and himself. But, they looked so young, even him. In the next picture, a woman with a gentle smile held an angelic-looking toddler who could only be Lucy in her lap while a dark-haired boy with a face that gave away his penchant for mischief, definitely Edmund, stood next to her as he clutched a teddy bear with one hand and Peter's hand with the other. Susan stood on her other side, looking sweetly proper, and behind them all, with one hand on the woman's, no, on Mum's shoulder and the other on Peter's shoulder, was a tall blond-haired man. His blond hair was slightly ruffled and he wore the reading glasses that he used whenever he was in the midst of his studies or teaching a class at the university or just reading the Bible for the family at night. Peter stepped closer to the picture, but based on their ages and the way the man, Dad, wasn't wearing a uniform, this must have been a few years before he enlisted._

_Peter padded down the hall, before the itchiness of his shirt made him look down. He was wearing strange clothes and shoes, no…no, he remembered these clothes. They were his or at least they used to be his. He tugged on the collar then undid the top button, sighing in relief once the itchy collar no longer sat snug against his neck. "Peter…"_

_The voice was back and it sounded closer. He jogged down the hall, following the voice until he stopped just outside a door that he had last opened the night before they had to go to the country. He cracked the door open and peeked inside the room that Dad had claimed as his study for as long as he could remember. Piles of books and papers covered every piece of furniture except for Dad's chair. The chair was empty._

_"Peter."_

_Peter froze then opened the door wider in order to see the window. There. There he was. Throwing the door open, Peter rushed toward the tall silhouette, "Dad!"_

_ His dad turned and Peter threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly, "Dad. You're back. I can't believe you're here. I thought we would never see you or Mum again." He pulled back, still talking excitedly, "Have Edmund and the girls seen you? Oh, Dad, Eddie's grown so much but he's still shorter than I am and Susan, oh she's the veritable reflection of Mum, and Lucy…Lucy's not the little baby of the family anymore."_

_His dad didn't reply and his arms had never moved from his sides. Peter eased back, looking up to scan his father's face. Maybe he had been injured and it pained him to move his arms… But, that concern was crushed as soon as Peter saw his face. Behind his glasses, William Pevensie's eyes glittered like shards of blue ice, filled with wroth and a heavy disappointment. Peter took another step back then he reached out a hand to touch his father's sleeve, "Dad, what-" He cut himself off as his father jerked his arm back, so his fingers were no longer touching the wool of his uniform._

_"Did we not stand in this very room the night before I left? Did I not tell you that it was now your job to take care of your mother and your brother and sisters since I had to leave to protect our country? Did you not look me in the eye and tell me that you would take care of them? That you would be the man of the house?"_

_Peter stared at his father as the brisk, clipped words assaulted his ears, "I…I did. I tried to take care of them all, Dad. I tried to do what you would do. Mum sent us away but I still tried to protect Edmund and the girls, Dad, I swear by Aslan that I did."_

_The coldness in his father's gaze cut through him better than any sword. This was not the look of the man who had patiently helped his children with their schoolwork nor the man who had told him he trusted him to look after the family while he was gone. This was…this was a stranger wearing his father's face. "Who is this Aslan? Tell me who he is, is he the one who caused all this? No, don't try to answer. I know the truth… I trusted you to look after them, to take care of them. And you have failed me in the worst way possible. How could you let Susan and Edmund and Lucy be killed? Then come home, raving about magical lands and mythologies come to life? Your mother never recovered from that news…and if it had not been her dying wish, I would have left you in the sanatorium. There, at least, you would be safe in your delusions and I would not have to dwell ever with the reminder of all that God has taken from me." His father shook his head, "No, I will send you back in the morning."_

_Peter finally found his voice though his thoughts still whirled with denial of everything his father had just said, "But, Dad, I-"_

_The elder Pevensie's face darkened further and then he strode briskly around Peter, "I have no son. Only a stranger who needs better care than I am capable of giving. My family is dead."_

_Peter grabbed his father's arm, clutching desperately to the wool sleeve, "No, please! Don't say that!" Tears filled his eyes and made it difficult to talk as he fell to his knees, still clinging to his father's sleeve, "I don't know what happened! I can't remember. Please, Dad, please. Don't send me away! I'm sorry! I'm so s-sorry!"_

_His father detangled his sleeve from Peter's grasping fingers and Peter tried to stand, only to collapse because his legs no longer worked. "Dad! Dad, help me, please!" His father didn't say word. He didn't even look at him, not even when Peter dragged his limp, useless legs behind him as he crawled to where his father now stood before his desk. Peter grabbed his father's pant leg, "Dad? Dad, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Lunging up, Peter latched onto his father's hand and wrist, "I didn't mean to…I didn't mean to let you down. I tried!" A sob broke loose as he shook his father's hand, willing it to close around his, but it didn't. "Dad? Dad, please say something. Please say you understand! Please, Dad, please!" Peter wept and pleaded but his father never responded. He never looked down. And, Peter never felt so alone. _

_He tightened his grip on his father's wrist and limp hand, "Please! Dad, please look at me! Say something! Anything, please!"_

_Peter lowered his head, unable to even let go of his father long enough to wipe the tears away for he feared if he let go, then his father would disappear again and he would truly be alone. Blinking back tears, Peter started then reflexively tightened his grip on his father's wrist as he looked around. The study was gone. Instead, they were in some sort of room that was filled with unrelieved darkness. He looked up at his father, desperate to confirm that he was still there. The elder Pevensie was there, still with his wrist and limp hand being crushed beneath Peter's grip, but Peter could only just make out his profile. Everyone was dead. Edmund, the girls, and even Mum. Peter gasped as despair slammed into him and he once again began to weep with deep, body-shaking sobs. He tugged once more on his father's wrist and limp hand, "Dad. Dad, please." He heard his voice echo quietly followed by the harsh echo of his violent weeping, but his father never responded._

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The cool wind whistled through the mountains, but it seemed to give Peter no relief. The colt moaned and thrashed weakly as he fought to break free of Oreius' grip but he could not, just as he could not break free of the nightmares. Mumbled pleading and slurred half-formed words gave no insight into what it was exactly that plagued his colt other than it was horrible. Oreius picked up his pace as much as he dared. There was fog gathering, but for the moment, it was only filling the valleys below. The Eagle stayed directly overhead, guiding him through the maze-like mountain paths. Oreius could hear the sound of water growing stronger again as the path descended into the fog. The Eagle was a dark shadow above him as He flew lower than before, providing a means for Oreius to orient himself.

Finally reaching the water he had been hearing for the better part of an hour, Oreius carefully set Peter down beside the mountain stream. This one was wider and wilder as the water cascaded down a short waterfall then splashed and surged over large rocks. The fog magnified the dull roar of the rushing water, somewhat deafening Oreius' ability to hear outside approach but the noise would prevent Peter's cries from being heard by anyone passing by and that was better than being forced to muffle the sound and stressing the colt further.

Fever bright eyes stared up at him, but they were unfocused and he knew his colt wasn't seeing him. He touched Peter's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from his clammy skin. He needed to get the fever down. Pulling the healing supplies out, Oreius hurried to prepare the necessary items. Beside him, Peter thrashed his arms and tossed his head as the fever dreams captured him once again, but his legs never moved. The need to calm the colt took precedence and Oreius prepared the lavender-scented water then carefully pressed the soaked cloth against the High King's brow. For a brief moment, the colt seemed to calm but then Peter latched onto his wrist, "Dad? Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to...I didn't mean to let you down. I tried! Dad? Dad, please say something. Please say you understand! Please, Dad, please!"

There was such fear and desperation in his tone as he clung to his wrist with surprising strength. Shocked at the colt's reaction, Oreius couldn't even think of what to say at first. His silence seemed to agitate Peter further as he began to weep, staring at Oreius yet looking through him to a father long gone. The colt tugged on his wrist, looking so young and wrought with anguish as his voice cracked, "Please! Dad, please look at me! Say something! Anything, please!"

Oreius covered the colt's hand with his larger one, squeezing lightly, "Peter. You're not alone. It is all right, you must lie still though."

His words didn't seem to register though as the High King's wide eyes shone from the fever and he tugged once more on Oreius' wrist, whispering brokenly, "Dad. Dad, please."

Peter wanted, no, needed to hear his father's voice. But, Oreius couldn't give him that. Unless…yes, of course. Oreius let go of Peter's hand, which still clung to his wrist, and placed his hand against the side of Peter's face. "Be still, Peter. You must be still, my…son."

Calling him "son" seemed to do what calling him by name had not as the colt stilled slightly, though he didn't ease his grip on Oreius' wrist. Fever bright eyes fixed on him, "Dad. Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know this would happen. I would have stopped it. I swear I would have stopped it. Please don't say I'm a stranger. Please!"

Oreius took a breath then spoke the words that were not simply what Peter needed in the midst of his feverish delirium, but were the honest, close-kept truth of his heart, "Peter. Peter, you are my son and I love you. This wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I know you would have stopped it if you could have, I know. I will never call you 'stranger,' do you understand, Peter? You will always be my son, always."

It seemed to work as the High King calmed, his hand slipping from Oreius' wrist when his grip relaxed. Uncertain of what he should do now, Oreius studied the colt's face. Small rivulets of sweat ran down his brow, creating a faint sheen over his upper lip, and it was obvious that he was in severe and continuous pain. Soaking another cloth in the lavender-scented water, Oreius patted the sweat away before he tended to the rest of Peter's wounds.

Alambiel had told him more than once that Peter suffered from an overdeveloped sense of guilt and Edmund, his dark colt, often agreed with her, usually when he was scolding his brother for feeling guilty over his injured status. Indeed, Oreius himself had lectured Peter many times about how he must not take the blame for things that he had no control over and that he must not allow himself to feel guilty over the actions of others since he could not foresee their acts and prevent them. Yet, they all knew that Peter's tendency to feel the guilt more keenly, to feel responsible for any and all misfortunes that befell his family and his people, was what made him such a compassionate and wise High King. He could be hot-blooded and rush into situations out of concern for his family or friends (as Oreius now knew all too well), but overall Peter was cautious about reacting in ways that could possibly endanger innocents. If Peter's birth father could see him, see how the colt had grown even more responsible, grown into a true follower of Aslan and a man (by the reckonings of Sons of Adam) who was a faithful protector not only of his family but of his country, Oreius knew he could not be prouder of Peter than Oreius himself.

Peter stirred uneasily, his eyes opening wide as he gasped, "No! No, Dad, I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean to fail you. I tried to protect them, but I didn't know this was happening. I'm sorry I failed. I'm sorry."

Oreius grabbed for the colt's flailing hands, engulfing one with his own hand while Peter once again wrapped his free hand around Oreius' wrist. He placed his own free hand on Peter's brow, feeling the warmth radiating from the cloth. He should have paid closer mind in order to prevent the colt's fever from rising again. Exchanging the dry cloth for a damp one, Oreius placed it on Peter's brow then he quietly answered Peter's entreaties, "You have not failed me, Peter. I am proud of you, my son. You have nothing, nothing to apologize for, Peter. I know you did your best."

On through the night, Oreius stayed by his colt's side as the High King varied from an almost unmoving sleep to bouts of a restless delirium. It was almost dawn when Peter seemed to worsen again as he struggled to sit up in the midst of his fever-induced delirium. Oreius carefully subdued the colt, forcing him to lie back down again. Peter's pupils were dilated until Oreius could barely see the blue ringing them as the colt gasped and clawed at his arm, still agitated. "I tried to protect them, Dad. I tried to take care of them just like you told me to, I did! No! Dad! Dad, don't go, please! Please! Don't leave, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I couldn't keep them safe. I'm sorry!"

Oreius' heart hurt as he attempted to soothe his colt's obvious distress, "Shh, Peter, my son. I am not leaving, look, I'm still here. I know you protected them, I know you did. Peter, listen to me, it is all right. You have not failed me, not in the least. Everyone is safe. They are safe because you took care of them just as I asked of you. You did well, Peter. My son, you have done very well and I am very proud of you."

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**A/N: Please Read and Review! Well, I'm once again posting an entry in the ALitD saga on the anniversary of the first posting of ****_ALitD: Awakening_****. Two years of posting, six epic stories (including ****_Refracted_****) and over 90 stories in general, and there's still a lot more in the works. Hard to believe, isn't it? Thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing not only this story but all my stories over these past two years. I probably would have quit without you. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this chapter. Have a happy Veterans Day!**


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